Wizki Tales

Wizki’s 5th Birthday Party


It was Wizki’s 5th birthday party and no one had turned up. Wizki sat alone in the living room looking despondent. He stared out of the window in the forlorn hope that one of his friends might appear. No one did.

It was bound to happen. He had sent out the invitations but he hadn’t stuck stamps on the envelopes. He thought that if he invited the postman to his party, the postman would deliver the invitations to his real friends for free out of a sense of brotherhood. However, the postman hadn’t forgotten the previous 364 days in the year when Wizki had done his resolute best to take a chunk out of the postman’s trousers. The poor man had been so traumatised he had to visit a psychiatrist. The invitations ended up in the dustbin and never reached Wizki’s friends. Wizki hadn’t a huge number of friends in the first place, not since he moved to London. The friends he had - the family of woodlice that Wizki had co-opted as his all-conquering army - had been decimated when Wizki accidentally backed over them in his Tonka Toy Tank on manoeuvres outside the bathroom.

Fiona watched Wizki mope at the birthday tea table and her heart went out to him. Poor mite: friendless and forlorn. It was a credit to Fiona’s compassion that she still had Wizki’s interest at heart. She had been dis-invited from the party after she held Wizki down to cut bubbly gum from his fur after he’d rolled about on the floor at the Sunday School Gift Day. Still, she felt sorry for him. For whatever reason, Wizki was alone at his own birthday party, and she decided to do something about it.

Fiona had already tried her best to make the party special. She festooned the flat with balloons and banners for the Pup’s special day. She baked a huge cake and had drawn a football pitch on the top in icing. She bought him the very thing he wanted for his birthday - new snorkel and flippers and a special diving mask that prevented water splashing on his face because he hated water splashing on his face. But Wizki had popped the balloons and yanked down the banners in a sulk after waiting for three hours by the window for the party-goers to show. He had stomped all over the birthday cake because he fancied a kickabout in his new football boots. And he had petulantly thrown the mask and snorkel in the dustbin after he accidentally unplugged the bathplug as he swam round the bath and had frightened himself into believing he might be sucked down the plughole. Fiona had done her best: what more could she do?

She fished around in her mind for ideas:

“Would you like to play a game, Wizki?” Fiona asked.

“No,” Wizki said back, quite rudely. He liked to play games but not when Fiona played: she always stuck to the rules and stopped him getting loud and over-excited. Where was the fun in that? No, he always got sent to bed if he played games with Fiona. Games was a bad idea.

“How about a walk round the park?”

The park? Was she serious? The place was full of squirrels who thought they were smart, waltzing up and down trees and showing off. They taunted him from the upper branches and far too many people were taken in by their silly showboating. No to the park. No, no, no, no, no!

“How about the cinema, then?”

Hmm, the pictures: that was a strong possibility. Wizki had been to the pictures before. It was fun. He had been thrown out for fighting with the ice cream seller because his ice cream was too cold. He had scoffed a giant packet of butter popcorn and swigged a massive tub of pop. He had merrily sung along to the tunes in the film. The cinema meant food and entertainment. Yes, that could be good.

“What’s on?” he asked, playing hard to get.

“There’s a new Disney film we could go and see. The Emperor’s New Clothes. It’s a Musical.”

Wizki liked Disney films. They lit up the screen in bright colours and always had songs you could sing, unlike those soppy girl’s films Fiona watched at home. With Disney films, you could cry at the sad parts and there was always a good baddy that got blasted that you could boo. Plus, with Wizki being only 5, there were a lot of films that were out of bounds to him. He was too young to understand the difference between fact and fiction, so it was important for him to see films with a happy ending, otherwise he would weep in his bed through the night. Disney films were pitched about right: they didn’t frighten him or give him bad dreams.

Yes, the cinema. That would do. They two of them ran out of the house in eager anticipation.

When she reached the front of the queue, Fiona asked the cashier for 1 adult and 1 child for The Emperor’s New Clothes. Then she saw Wizki had already sneaked through the barrier and was eyeing up the sweets. A creature as small as he could get into the cinema for free because the cashier couldn’t see him. Fiona called him back:

“Wizki, we pay our way in this family. One adult and a small pup, please.” Fiona put her money on the counter. The cashier looked down at Wizki and then across at a sign that stated ‘No Dogs’. Fiona confronted the problem before the cashier spoke:

“It’s OK. It’s his 5th birthday. We’re here as a treat.”

The cashier looked back at Wizki and noticed his big badge that said, ‘I am 5’:

“OK. Just this once. But keep him on a leash.”

Wizki hated to be kept on a leash. He felt it was a violation of his Puppy Rights. He was about to protest when Fiona scooped him up and carried him through the foyer:

“It’s OK, I’ll make sure he doesn’t cause any harm.”

Wizki gave the cashier a defiant glare. Fiona whispered to him:

“We don’t have time to argue, Wizki. We need to get into the theatre to get 2 good seats.”

“But what about my popcorn? And I need a wee.”

“OK, I’ll go get your popcorn. Off you go to the toilet.”

Fiona bought Wizki his popcorn. Wizki dashed off to the Gents. They met again in the auditorium.

“Where would you like to sit?”

“There!” said Wizki, pointing to 2 seats right in the middle of the 2nd row. “I want to sit right there.”

They squeezed through to the seats, apologising to the people who had to stand to let them through. Fiona gave Wizki the popcorn and settled in.

“Mummy, this is salt popcorn. I wanted butter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Wizki. Oh dear, I don’t have any more money on me. I can’t go back for more, I’m afraid.”

Wizki tutted and reluctantly dived in and made a pig of himself. It wasn’t the same as butter popcorn but it was better than no popcorn at all. He took a huge slurp of his drink and it made him burp.

The theatre was packed. It seemed everyone in the world had come to see the film. The last person to arrive, a very fat man who had serious body odour, saw Wizki’s seat from the aisle and thought it was empty. He worked his way along the row and then sat right on top of Wizki. Ooh, it hurt. Wizki crawled out from under the man’s big butt and looked up sadly toward Fiona. The man was unapologetic:

“A puppy shouldn’t have a seat to himself. Put him on your knee or I’ll complain to the management.”

It was all Fiona could do to stop Wizki biting the man. She told him that she had paid for a seat and that Wizki was entitled to sit down. The man wasn’t interested: he would not move to another seat. Fiona grumbled but Wizki bounced to grab her attention - he had seen the film was about to begin.

The opening scene was marvellous. A brightly bedecked troop of dancers moved and smiled, sang and laughed. The hero swooped across the screen on a rope. Beautifully-coloured fireworks burst onto the screen. For a cartoon, it was so life-like even Fiona began to think it was real.

Wizki jumped up and down on her knee:

“I can’t see,” he said. “I can’t see!”

A tall woman with a very big hat had come in late and perched right in front of them. The hat was blocking Wizki’s view.

“Excuse me, would you mind taking off your hat, please.” Fiona whispered very politely.

The woman turned round and sniffed at Fiona but duly obliged. Unfortunately, her hair was just as tall as her hat, and twice as wide. Wizki couldn’t see and neither could Fiona. This was turning out to be a bad trip to the cinema. The film was good, the bit that they saw of it, but every time Wizki yelped with excitement, he was greeted with a chorus of ‘shhh’s and snide comments that people should not be allowed to bring their dogs to the cinema. No one seemed to complain about the people smoking further back in the auditorium, or the ones talking all the way through the film, or the ones stomping out to the toilet every ten minutes, or the ones who hadn’t turned off their mobile phones and took phone calls throughout the best bits. No, everyone preferred to pick on the poor puppy near the front who had come to the pictures as a birthday treat, and who only wanted to see a lovely film that would make him happy.

At the end of the film, Fiona congratulated Wizki on making it through to the end of the show without getting thrown out. She apologised that the cinema experience wasn’t as great as he had hoped. There was no consoling him: this had turned out to be a very poor birthday and he was rightfully unhappy. Nothing Fiona could do made a difference.

The two trawled home, Wizki sad because his birthday had turned out badly and Fiona sad because she wanted to make the puppy feel loved.

When they reached home, there was a note posted through the door which read:

‘Dear Wizki, We came for your birthday but you were out. Sorry we missed your party. Happy Birthday.’

It was signed ‘Wizki’s friends’. Fiona had written the note as they left for the cinema.

“Look, Wizki. Everyone wanted to come to your party but we missed them. Never mind. Next year, eh!”

Wizki gave her a sorrowful look and tramped through to his bedroom with a tremendous pout. Fiona popped her head round the door to see him sulking on the bed, looking out at the sky in a sullen and tragic fashion. ‘Oh, poor soul’, Fiona thought. ‘Surely there must be something I can do to put matters right.’ She went back through to the living room to consider the situation.

Fiona surveyed the living room for inspiration. And there it was, a video she only played when she was in the gloomiest of glooms. She figured this was a day that warranted playing it:

“Come and watch this, Wizki. It will make you smile.”

With dejected shoulders, Wizki wandered through to the living room. Fiona pressed play on the remote.

It was an old home video that Fiona’s Mum had filmed one day 5 years back when Fiona was round to visit. Fiona was holding a tiny, tiny pup, a helpless ball of fur that yawned and licked her face. She stroked the puppy’s soft pelt and smiled ecstatically at the camera.

Wizki asked who the tiny pup was.

“It’s you, when you were a wee little baby. Look at you. How cute you were. You were such a lovely surprise.”

On the film, Baby Wizki took a wee. He weed over Fiona’s new trousers. Everyone laughed. Fiona grinned at the camera. She cuddled the new born Wizki tight to her heart.

“That was your Zero birthday, Wizki. The day you were born. I was so happy when Mum said I was going to have a puppy. And I’m still happy.”

She looked down at Wizki. He had jumped onto her lap and now snuggled into her, watching himself on screen as a very small baby. It made him feel glad to be alive. How happy he was. He stretched his neck and kissed Fiona on the cheek:

“This is a good birthday, Mummy.”

Fiona started to cry. It was a good birthday. Yes, it was.

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