Peticru was no ordinary dog. And not just because he lived in a castle and dined on mutton and liver. No, it was more than that. You see, Peticru was the Best Dog in the World. He did not know if it was because of his velvety blue coat or his wet brown nose or his soft, rounded ears. But it was something that he had been told all his life, and after about the hundredth time hearing it, he began to believe it himself and decided it must be true.
Peticru had no master; he was master of himself. And every day he went where he pleased and did as he liked. He pranced about the royal grounds, wagging his long whip of a tail, and at night he slept on whichever finely woven rug he chose. He knew that he was different from other dogs—not just because he was the Best Dog in the World, but also because he had a special gift: he could make people happy simply by appearing. He could not help it any more than he could understand it, but everywhere that Peticru went, happiness seemed to follow.
He knew how rare a gift this was. That is why he spent so much time visiting as many people as he could. It was often tiring work, but he was careful to take plenty of naps throughout the day so as not to spread himself too thin. Luckily, he seemed to bring just as much joy when in repose as he did when he was awake, so little was lost by his proclivity for a nice long wink.
Petricru liked making people happy. And in fact, his work as Bringer of Joy was doubly rewarding, for he found that if you made people happy, they were more apt to do things like feed you table scraps and rub your belly and scratch that spot between your shoulder blades that you can never seem to reach yourself.
But even Peticru knew that there was more to life than work; it was also important to pursue one’s own interests. And Peticru’s primary interest, his greatest pleasure outside of spreading joy, was sniffing out mischief. Sniffing out mischief was great fun, and once you learned to do it, it really was not so difficult.
The best way to sniff out mischief, Peticru had found, was by going somewhere you knew you weren’t supposed be and doing something you knew you weren’t supposed to do. This could be running through the kitchens after the cook, snapping at his heels, sneaking into someone’s bedchambers and wetting their blankets, or even something simple, like pulling a turkey off a table or jumping into the bath with someone.
But the best part of sniffing out mischief, the thing that made it all feel worthwhile, was the Chase. The Chase did not always happen as a matter of course, but if you did things right, you could get lucky, and the Chase, once it began, might go on for hours. The most certain way to instigate the Chase was to take something that someone wanted very much, something which they did not want you to have.
It was a fine summer day when Peticru found himself lying in the grass, wondering if he shouldn’t sniff out some mischief. He had spent all morning delivering happiness among the guardsmen who stood outside the castle gates and had just woken up from a hard-earned nap. He let out a great yawn and stretched his legs as long as he could. He was still a bit sleepy, and the sun felt warm and wonderful on his shiny blue coat.
He licked at his paws, which tasted deliciously of dirt, and thought about going back to sleep. But then, he heard a noise. Splash! His ears perked up. He knew that sound. It was the sound of water. Splash! The noise came again.
Petricu gathered his energy and rose to his four nimble paws. He was curious to find the source of the sound (though he was fairly certain he knew from where it had come), but not before taking another nice long stretch. He allowed himself one final yawn for good measure, and then he padded off in the direction of the lake.
Sure enough, when he got there, he found two humans gliding about in the cool blue water. He crept around the bushes, wondering if it mightn’t be fun to spring out suddenly and leap into the water between them and splash all about. If he was lucky, he might even startle them so much they would wave their arms about and scream all the way to shore where they would clamber out of the water and run away as fast as they could. Yes, that did sound like a good deal of fun.
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But before he could find a good spot between the shrubs from which to pounce, Peticru smelled something. It was a wonderful, musky smell. He pressed his nose to the ground, trying to trace where the scent was coming from. He sniffed and sniffed but found little more than worms. He lifted his nose up into the air. The smell was not coming from the ground; it was coming from above him.
He looked up, and that’s when he saw it. It was some sort of human thing, a cloth that had been hung atop the bushes. Peticru sniffed at it. It smelled of sweat and goose grease and a million other delightful things. He pressed his nose into it, reveling in the strange amalgamation of scents. It must be someone’s clothing, he realized, perhaps the humans swimming about the lake.
Petricu stuck out his long pink tongue and licked. The clothing did not taste of much, and such a disappointed was this to the slender blue dog that he nearly turned and left then and there. But then, he had an idea. The Chase. What better way to instigate the Chase than to take the human clothing, which he was certain they would want and which he was certain they would not want him to have, and abscond with it? Peticru had hardly ever been so proud of himself. Even if he was the Best Dog in the World, this was a clever scheme indeed.
Wasting no more time, he stood up on his two back legs and snatched down the clothing. He was so excited at his retrieval, he nearly ran off straight away. But then he remembered something: in order for the Chase to work, you must let the humans catch you in the Act of Instigation.
With a mouth full of linen, Peticru walked out from behind the bush and stood along the edge of the lake where he was certain the humans could see him. All that was left to do now was wait. He could hear the humans laughing, the voice of a man and a woman whispering to one another as they floated about in the water. They seemed somewhat distracted, and he hoped he would not have to wait long. But it was no more than a few moments before he heard the sound he had been waiting for: a gasp.
The humans had seen him, alright, but still, Peticru waited. They were coming toward the shore in haste, their voices rising in distress. Peticru bent his knees, ready to spring away at any moment, and the humans, as if in response to this change in posture, slowed their movements.
“Nice doggy,” the man said as he began to climb out of the lake. “Be a good boy, now.” Peticru could feel his saliva soaking the linen in anticipation. “Why don’t you drop what you’ve got and I’ll give you a bone.”
Peticru’s ears lifted. A bone? He liked bones. In fact, he liked them very much. His mouth began to slacken. Bones were wonderful. They tasted of meat and marrow, and you could chew on them for hours. Now that he thought about it, a bone might be almost as enjoyable as the Chase. But still he did not drop his bundle.
The man was out of the water now, stalking slowly toward him. “That’s a good doggy,” he said quietly. “Drop it and I’ll give you a nice juicy bone.” A juicy bone, was it then? The man hadn’t mentioned that before. Yes, a juicy bone might change things. There was little in the world that Peticru loved more than a juicy bone. The juicer the better, he had always thought.
The man was nearly upon him, his feet lifting slowly across the grass. “Good boy,” he said. “Good doggy.” Peticru watched him, his mouth wet and hungry. Dash the Chase; he was perfectly ready to lie down in the sun and enjoy his nice juicy bone.
But wait—just where was this bone? He could not see that the man was holding one, and he hadn’t any clothes. So where was he hiding this bone he had so readily offered?
Petricu, it seemed, had been duped, and much to his discontent. But the man would not get away with it. Oh, no. Luckily for the clever blue dog, he still held the linen in his mouth. And just as the man reached toward him, his fingertips extended toward the bundle clenched tightly in the dog’s jaws, Peticru ran. The man lurched toward him, but he was no match for the long-legged dog. Peticru looked back to see the man stumbling after him, but he could not keep his feet for long, and soon fell down flat in the grass. But Petricu did not stop. He ran and ran with such speed and such glee, until the man’s curses and the woman’s screams could no longer be heard.
When at last he had worn himself out, Peticru decided to pay a visit to the kitchens. He had had his share of mischief and though he might spread a bit of his happiness. He strode in, having dropped the linen some time ago in some place he could not quite remember, and walked up to the kitchen maid, licking her leg. She looked down at Peticru with a smile on her face and patted him on the head.
“I’ve something for you,” she said, “something very special indeed.” And with that, she reached across the counter, grabbing an object which she then placed in Peticru’s mouth. It was a bone—a nice juicy one. Peticru wagged his tailed in gratitude and laid down at once to gnaw on his prize. The kitchen maid leaned down to give him another gentle pat on the head, cooing as Peticru gave her hand a grateful lick. “Well now, Peticru, aren’t you just the Best Dog in the World.”