Part II Chapter 6 Doctor Dolittle's Return by Hugh Lofting
SETTING THE ZOO TO RIGHTS
It was not until almost the end of the Summer that the Doctor got back to his ordinary size. He was now no longer afraid of being seen; and he moved about the house without upsetting things or smashing furniture; and he was very happy about it.
First of all he went over the whole garden from end to end. Though I had done the best I could to keep it up in good condition for him, there was much of course that his eye fell on which mine had overlooked. John Dolittle was a very good gardener himself and very particular. (Dab-Dab always used to say he never seemed to mind how untidy his house was, as long as the garden was spick and span—"Just like a man!" she would add.) Gub-Gub and I—and sometimes Matthew when he was about—helped him with the work; dividing up the iris roots; pegging down the raspberry canes; digging up and re-sowing some of the turf patches that had grown bare and brown.
"The coming of Autumn, Stubbins," said he, "is always the most important season for a sensible gardener. That's the time when we put the earth to bed, as it were. If you get the ground and your plants and trees in good condition for their long winter sleep, you will have something to show in the Spring."
When we came to look over the big enclosure which we had called the Zoo the emptiness of it seemed to sadden him. He gazed over the long walled-in lawn some moments without speaking; but I knew what was in his mind. So did Jip.
"Humph!" muttered the Doctor after a while, "those dog-houses down at the bottom look pretty sad, don't they? The roofs all full of holes and rotten. We must do something to clean up this mess, Stubbins. A year seems such a short time, and yet what a lot can happen in it!"
"Look here, Doctor," said Jip, "why can't we repair them and start the Home for Cross-bred Dogs over again? There's a half-breed setter down in the town. His name is Flip. He has no home at all. He gets his meals from any old place—off rubbish heaps mostly. And there are a lot of other dogs too. Couldn't we take them in, the same as we used to when you kept open house for stray dogs?"
"Well, Jip, I'd love to," said the Doctor. "They surely were jolly times when we had the dogs' home running full blast. You remember that little rascal, Quetch, the Scotty who used to run the dogs' gymnasium for us—and bossed you all over the place when we had the jumping contests? And wasn't that a wonderful yarn—when he told us the story of his life? My, what a character he was! But you see, Jip, I don't know about the money side of it. A lot of dogs need a lot of food. It seems to me I've got to live on Stubbins' salary here—of three shillings and sixpence a week—till I begin to make something from my new book."
"Well, but, Doctor," said Jip. "Why can't we take in just Flip for the present—till you're feeling richer? I'm afraid he'll get shot one of these days for stealing people's chickens or something. No one takes care of him. He's just a tramp. He comes round to the front gate twice a week to see if I have any old bones to give him. Most of the time he's practically starving."
"Humph!—Starving, eh?" said the Doctor seriously. He looked at me. "Can we manage it, do you think, Stubbins?"
"Oh, surely, Doctor," said I. "We'll manage somehow. We always seem to have milk and vegetables, any way."
"Good!" said the Doctor. "Milk and vegetables are much better for a dog than a lot of meat. All right, Jip, bring your friend in next time he calls and we'll fix up one of the dog-houses for him here."
The white mouse, always inquisitive, had been following us around on the inspection of the garden. He now piped up in his funny squeaky little voice.
"Oh, and Doctor, wouldn't it be a good idea if we set up the Rat and Mouse Club again too? There's a new family of mice up in the attic. And you know Dab-Dab would much sooner have them out of the house, down here instead. It won't be any trouble. I can fix up our old Rat Town just as it was. I know how they like it, you see. And they'll be no expense. A few crusts of bread and rinds of cheese. It would be lots of fun to have them here once more, don't you think? Then we could have them telling us stories over the kitchen fire after supper-just like old times. Do let's start the Rat and Mouse Club again!"
"Humph!" said the Doctor thoughtfully. "I don't see why not. It would make the place more home-like. I certainly hate to see the Zoo enclosure all empty and deserted like this. Yes, let's set up the Rat and Mouse Club. I'll leave the matter in your hands, Whitey. At least we can afford that."
And then the old lame horse who had been helping us weed the garden with a cultivator put in his say.
"Doctor," he said, "how about the Retired Cab and Wagon Horses' Association—you know, the farm you bought for them about two miles away?"
"Ah, yes," said the Doctor, "to be sure, to be sure. I'd forgotten all about them. Tell me, how are they getting on?"
"Well," said the old fellow, swishing the flies off with his tail, "I hear there have not been any new members joined of late. But the fences need repairing. Dogs getting in and yapping and snapping about the place—in spite of all the signs we put up, 'Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted—Dogs Will Be Kicked,' you remember?"
"Yes, yes, of course," said the Doctor.
"And the scratching-post you set for them—it got pushed down. And they would like another."
"Dear me, dear me," said John Dolittle. "Yes, I remember how they used to like to scratch their necks—on the top of the hill there, where they could see the view as the sun went down. Well, I'll certainly have to attend to that. I'll go over with you in the morning and see about it."
And so it was that before very long most of the old institutions which the Doctor had set up for the comfort and happiness of animals got put back into running order after his long stay on the moon. All of his own animal household were very happy about this—and, I was surprised to find, Dab-Dab in particular.
"Tommy," she said to me one evening, "this is a good thing. It will keep John Dolittle out of mischief—I mean keep him away from his book for a while more anyhow. Why shouldn't he have a good time giving the animals a good time?—so long as he doesn't start any of those crazy charitable ideas for pests, like the Country House for Houseflies. Poof!" (She shrugged up her wings in disgust.) "Don't let him start that again. He'll have a Wardrobe for Clothes Moths or a Bedroom for Bed-bugs before you know where you are."