The 101 Dalmatians

Cruella De Vil Pays Two Calls

The next day five more puppies were brought down to Perdita, and she fed them splendidly. So Mr. Dearly went to his business. He hurried back early to do some pup-feeding and found that Mrs. Dearly was feeding the upstairs puppies and the Nannies were taking it in turns to feed the kitchen puppies. He was a little jealous but soon got over it—for he knew that what really mattered was that pups should get plenty of milk without exhausting Missis and poor, thin Perdita too much.

Perdita now had her bed in the dresser cupboard, where there would not be too much light for the puppies’ eyes. These began to open in eight days. And a week after that, the puppies’ spots began to show.

What a day it was when Mr. Dearly sighted the first spot! After that, spots came thick and fast, though they would not all be through for some months. In a very few days it was possible to recognize every pup by its spots. There were seven girls and eight boys. The prettiest of all the girls was the tiny pup whose life Mr. Dearly had saved at birth, but she was very small and delicate. When pigs have families, the smallest, weakest piglet is often called the cadpig. Mr. Dearly always called the tiny puppy Cadpig, which can be a nice little name when spoken with love.

Patch, the pup born with a black ear, was still the biggest and strongest puppy. He always seemed to be next to Cadpig, as if these two already knew they were going to be special friends. There was a fat, funny boy-puppy called Roly Poly, who was always getting into mischief. And the most striking pup of all was one who had a perfect horseshoe of spots on his back—and had therefore been named Lucky. He was terrifically energetic and showed from the beginning that he was going to be the ringleader of all his brothers and sisters.

A few days after the first spots came through, something very upsetting happened: Perdita’s milk supply failed. She was miserable about it because she loved the seven pups she had been feeding as much as if they were her own. And she was very, very frightened. Now that she was no longer useful, why should the Dearlys keep her in this warm, comfortable house where—for the first time in her life—she had been given enough to eat? But it was not the food and warmth that mattered most to her. It was the love. She had been treated as one of the family. The thought of leaving it all was more than she could bear.

And what happened to dogs nobody wanted? All sorts of fears awoke in her heart.

The morning she found she had no milk to offer at all, she crept unhappily out of the dresser cupboard and saw Mrs. Dearly having a mid-morning cup of tea with the Nannies. Mrs. Dearly held out a biscuit. Perdita did not take it. She just laid her head against Mrs. Dearly’s knee and gave a little moan.

Mrs. Dearly stroked her and said, “Poor Perdita! I wish we could explain to her that we are helping to feed her seven puppies, so she doesn’t need to worry. Darling Perdita, you are washing them beautifully and keeping them warm at night. We couldn’t possibly do without you.”

She had no hope of being understood; she just thought her sooting tone would be comforting. But Perdita was picking up more and more human words every day and understood perfectly. She was wild with relief. For the first time she showed really high spirits, jumping up and kissing Mrs. Dearly, then dashing back to wash the puppies all over again.

Not many days after this, all pups began learning to lap milk for themselves and could soon eat milk puddings and bread soaked in gravy. They were now much too big to go on living in cupboards. Missis and her eight were moved down to the laundry, while Perdita’s seven had the run of the kitchen—where they got terribly under the Nannies’s feet.

“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.