Dodie Smith - The 101 Dalmatians

“What a pity they can’t be in the laundry with their brothers and sisters,” said Nanny Cook one morning.

“Missis might hurt them—she wouldn’t know them for her own now,” said Nanny Butler. “And she and Perdita would fight.”

Pongo heard this and decided something must be done. For he knew that, whatever usual dogs would do, Missis would know her own puppies and she and Perdita would not fight. So he had a word with Missis, under the laundry door, and that afternoon, when the Nannies were upstairs, he took a flying leap at the door and managed to burst it open. Out hurtled Missis and eight puppies, and when the Nannies came downstairs they found Pongo, Missis, and Perdita all playing happily with fifteen puppies—who were now so mixed up that it took the Nannies all their time to decide which pups had been brought up by which mother.

After that, all pups lived in the laundry. The door was kept open and a piece of wood was put across it high enough to keep all puppies in—but low enough to be jumped by Missis and Perdita when they wanted to come into the kitchen.

By now it was December, but the days were fine and surprisingly warm, so the puppies were able to play in the area several times a day. They were quite safe there, for the gate at the top of the steps which led to the street now had a strong spring to keep it closed. One morning, when the three dogs and the fifteen puppies were taking the air, Pongo saw a tall woman looking down over the area railings.

He recognized her at once. It was Cruella de Vil.

As usual, she was wearing her absolutely simple white mink cloak, but she now had a brown mink coat under it. Her hat was made of fur, her boots were lined with fur, and she wore big fur gloves.

“What will she wear when it’s really cold?” thought Nanny Butler, coming out into the area.

Cruella opened the gate and walked down the steps, saying how pretty the puppies were. Lucky, always the ringleader, came running towards her and nibbled at the fur round the tops of her boots. She picked him up and placed him against her cloak, as if he were something to be worn.

“Such a pretty horseshoe,” she said, looking at the spots on his back. “But they all have pretty markings. Are they old enough to leave their mother yet?”

“Very nearly,” said Nanny Butler. “But they won’t have to. Mr. and Mrs. Dearly are going to keep them all .” (Sometimes the Nannies wondered just how this was going to be managed.)

“How nice!” Said Cruella, and began going up the steps, still holding Lucky against her cloak. Pongo, Missis, and Perdita all barked sharply, and Lucky reached up and nipped Cruella’s ear. She gave a scream and dropped him. Nanny Butler was quick enough to catch him in her apron.

“That woman!” said Nanny Cook, who had just come out into the area. “She’s enough to frighten the spots off a pup. What’s the matter, Lucky?”

For Lucky had dashed into the laundry and was gulping down water. Cruella’s ear had tasted of pepper.

Every day now, the puppies grew stronger and more independent. They now fed themselves entirely, eating shredded meat as well as soaked bread and milk puddings. Missis and Perdita were quite happy to leave them now for an hour or more at a time, so the three grown-up dogs took Mrs. Dearly and Nanny Butler for a good walk in the park every morning, while Nanny Cook got the lunch and kept an eye on the puppies. One morning, when she had just let them out into the area, the front doorbell rang.

It was Cruella de Vil, and when she heard Mrs. Dearly was out she said she would come in and wait. She asked many questions about the Dearlys and the puppies and went on talking so long that at last Nanny Cook said she really must go down and let the puppies in, as a cold wind was blowing. Cruella then said she would walk in the park and hope to meet Mrs. Dearly. “Perhaps I can see her from here,” she said, strolling to the window.

Nanny Cook also went to the window, intending to point out the nearest way into the park. As she did so, she noticed a small black van standing in front of the house. At that very moment it drove off at a great pace.

Cruella suddenly seemed in a hurry. She almost ran out of the house and down the front-door steps.

“Can’t think how she can move so fast, huddled in all those furs,” thought Nanny Cook, closing the front door.

“And those poor pups, in only their own thin little skins, catching their death of cold!”

She hurried down to the kitchen and opened the door to the area.

Not a pup was in sight.

“They’re playing me a trick. They’re hiding,” Nanny Cook told herself. But she knew there was nowhere for fifteen puppies to hide. All the Same, she looked behind every tub of shrubs—where not even a mouse could have hidden. The gate at the top of the steps was firmly closed—and no pup could possibly have opened it. Still, she ran up to the street and searched wildly.

“They’ve been stolen, I know they have!” she moaned, bursting into tears. “They must have been in that black van I saw driving away.”

Cruella de Vil seemed to have changed her mind about going into the park. She was already halfway back to her own house, walking very fast indeed.

Through her tears, Nanny Cook started towards the park. She could now see Mrs. Dearly, Nanny Butler, and the three dogs, who had just turned for home. It seemed a strange and terrible thing that they could be strolling along so happily, when every step brought them nearer to such dreadful news.

As they came across the Outer Circle, Nanny Cook ran to meet them—crying so much that Mrs. Dearly found it hard to understand what had happened. The dogs heard the word “puppies,” saw Nanny Cook’s tears, and rushed down to the area. Then they went dashing over the whole house, searching, searching. Every few minutes Missis and Perdita howled, and Pongo barked furiously.

While the dogs searched and the Nannies cried on each other’s shoulders, Mrs. Dearly telephoned Mr. Dearly. He came home at once, bringing with him one of the Top Men from Scotland Yard. The Top Man found a bit of sacking on the area railings and said the puppies must have been dropped into sacks and driven away in the black van. He promised to Comb the Underworld, but warned the Dearlys that stolen dogs were seldom recovered unless a reward was offered. A reward seemed an unreasonable thing to offer to a thief, but Mr. Dearly was willing to offer it.

He rushed to Fleet Street and had large advertisements put on the front pages of the evening papers (this was rather expensive) and arranged for even larger advertisements to be on the front pages of the next day’s morning papers (this was even more expensive). Beyond this, there seemed nothing he or Mrs. Dearly could do except try to comfort each other and comfort the Nannies and the dogs. Soon the Nannies stopped crying and joined in the comforting, and prepared beautiful meals which nobody felt like eating. And at last night fell on the stricken household.

Worn out, the three dogs lay in their baskets in front of the kitchen fire.

“Think of my baby Cadpig in a sack,” said Missis with a sob.

“Her big brother Patch will take care of her,” said Pongo soothingly—though he felt most unsoothed himself.

“Lucky is so brave, he will bite the thieves,” wailed Perdita. “And then they will kill him.”