by Megan Rix
‘How long before he has to leave?’ Joe asked, swallowing hard.
‘Difficult to say exactly. It depends on how many dogs they have to assess. But probably not before Christmas.’ Patch nuzzled his hand for more treats and Lenny gave him another one. ‘Go on then, but don’t tell Ollie.’
They saw Mr Humphreys waiting at the bus stop.
‘Can we give you a lift?’ Joe’s mum asked him, pulling in.
‘Much appreciated,’ Mr Humphreys said, climbing into the car. ‘Can’t stop thinking about those Helper Dogs. Jolly impressive indeed. Well done, Joe and Patch, and you too of course, Mary.’
‘Thanks,’ Joe mumbled, but he felt sick at the thought that Patch was going to be leaving.
When they got home, Patch stood up in his crate, which was rapidly becoming too small for him, and wagged his tail at Mr Humphreys and Joe.
Joe took a deep breath to steady himself as he unclipped the crate door. ‘Good boy, Patch,’ he said. ‘You’re such a good puppy,’ and he pressed his face into Patch’s fur and hugged him.
Chapter 22
Joe had taught Patch to pick up the post and bring it to him. But Joe was at school when the letter dropped through the letterbox, close to where Patch was lying at the front door, two weeks before the Christmas holidays started. Patch immediately jumped up and looked at the letter, then sat down, then stood up again and scratched at it with his paw until he could manage to get it in his mouth.
He took the letter upstairs to Joe’s mum in her spare-bedroom office.
‘Oh, thank you, Patch. What a good dog you are,’ she said, taking it from him.
Patch wagged his tail and then trotted back down the stairs to wait for Joe to come home from school.
Joe knew something was wrong as soon as he walked in. Usually his mum was upstairs working in her office and only Patch was downstairs at the front door waiting for him. But today they were both there.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
Mum looked down at the letter she was holding. Joe looked at it too.
‘What is it?’ he repeated as she brushed away a tear that slipped down her face.
The letter was from Helper Dogs and Mum read it out to Joe.
‘“We would like to thank you for all your hard work in helping to turn Patch into the wonderful puppy he is today,”’ she read. ‘“It is now time for him to continue on his journey to becoming a Helper Dog and changing someone’s life forever. Patch’s assessment will take place on the twentieth of December. He will be needed at the Helper Dogs headquarters the day before the assessment. Please ensure Patch is ready. He should bring with him his crate and bedding, food and water bowls, his Helper Dogs jacket, a toy and possibly a ball. (Please don’t send more than one toy as we simply don’t have space for them and they will be disposed of.)
‘“Thanks once again for all your dedication. Helper Dogs could not exist without its magnificent dog-loving volunteers. We would like to invite you to our Christmas celebration for dogs in advanced training on the twenty-fourth of December.”’
Patch looked up at her and whined.
‘Helper Dogs.’ Joe took the letter from her and read it again. ‘They’re taking him away. Before Christmas?’ he said, stunned.
He’d been dreading Christmas already, but at least they’d have had Patch with them. But now it had turned into the absolute worst time of the year.
‘And they want us to come and celebrate.’
He didn’t feel like celebrating, not one little bit. Although it’d mean he’d see Patch and he definitely did want to do that.
Patch put his paw out to him.
‘It’s OK,’ Joe told the puppy bravely, although he was almost shaking. Joe knew Patch was really good at picking up on emotions and he didn’t want to alarm him. ‘It’s OK. Where’s your ball? Let’s go outside and play.’
Knowing that Patch might one day be his Helper Dog had kept Sam going through months of operations and physiotherapy. If he didn’t keep going and get as fit as he could, Patch would be given to someone else. It was as simple as that.
Late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d look at Patch’s online diary, although he’d read it all a thousand times already.
‘I love the bit where Patch learnt to swim,’ he told the night nurse as he showed her the photographs Joe had taken. ‘But he wasn’t too sure about crabs!’ Thinking about Patch and those crabs always made him smile.
But now he knew he could be living with Patch very soon.
The army occupational therapist had come to talk to him about the flat that was to be specially adapted for him.
‘It has to have as large a garden as possible,’ he’d said. ‘I want Patch to have space to play. I want to watch him run down the garden after a ball.’
Most of the rehabilitation flats had small gardens so they’d be easier to maintain, but the occupational therapist had finally found one at the end of a block she thought might be suitable.
‘Perfect!’ Sam had said when he’d seen it.
‘It’s an older flat and not as well decorated as some of the others,’ the occupational therapist had said.
But Sam didn’t care about decor.
‘That’s a garden a dog can have fun in,’ he’d said. ‘It’s just right.’
The occupational therapist had smiled. ‘Then we’ll start getting it adapted for you,’ she’d said.
‘I need to be in it before Christmas,’ Sam had told her. ‘Patch is being assessed on the twentieth of December.’
Chapter 23
Christmas was only three weeks away. Which meant that there was just over two weeks before Patch’s assessment. Joe wanted to make those weeks the most fun for Patch that he possibly could.
He didn’t want to tell anyone Patch was leaving. It felt somehow that if he didn’t say it out loud, then it might not really be real.
But his mum told Mr Humphreys when they were putting out the dustbins.
‘I’ll miss the little imp,’ he said. ‘Place won’t be the same without him.’
Helper Dogs wrote to let Mrs Hodges know about Patch’s achievement and Charlie found out when she bumped into Lenny at the supermarket. She came speeding round in her wheelchair straight away.
‘I can’t believe he’s going,’ she said as she stroked Patch. ‘I’ll miss him so much.’ She had tears in her eyes when she looked up at Joe. ‘You have to bring Patch into school this week so everyone can say goodbye to him. You have to. It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t. We all love him.’
Charlie was right. ‘I will,’ Joe said softly, and he brought Patch into school for two days rather than his usual one.
Miss Addams gave them an extended break and let the children take Patch out on to the sports field at the back of the school.
‘I so wish Patch didn’t have to go away,’ said Charlie.
But no one could wish it as much as Joe did.
On the last day of term, Joe’s class had a small party for Patch. Callum and Daniel bought Patch a ball and Miss Addams gave him a packet of dog treats.
‘I wasn’t sure which would be best, but the secretary said he really liked these ones.’
Patch wagged his tail as she showed him the treats. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he liked all the fuss everyone was making of him.
Joe felt like his heart was breaking.
Charlie brought in a small savoury cake she’d made for Patch.
‘I found the recipe on the Internet,’ she said. ‘They’ve got loads of recipes for dog treats on there. This one’s got cheese in it.’
In the playground everyone wanted to give Patch one last stroke and in assembly the head teacher told them all, ‘Today is probably the last time little Patch will be visiting us and I’m sure we’ll all be sad not to see his waggy tail or hear his bark any more, but Patch is now going to carry on with his training to be a Helper Dog.’
He might come back, Joe thought, and he wished with all his heart that Patch
would fail his assessment, even though he knew it was wrong to wish it. Sam needed Patch. But if Patch failed the assessment he’d get to stay with Joe forever.
Once school was over for the term, Joe spent all his time with Patch.
Callum and Daniel and Archie came with him and Patch to the park. They threw the ball Callum and Daniel had bought for the pup to run after, and raced around with him as his tail wagged and wagged.
‘He has to be the best puppy ever,’ Callum said as they all collapsed on a bench, exhausted, and Joe couldn’t agree more.
At the supermarket the manager gave Patch one of the special Christmas stockings filled with dog treats and a toy.
‘We’ll all miss not seeing his furry face around here any more,’ he said to Joe, and Joe nodded. They couldn’t miss his furry face as much as he was going to.
On the Saturday Joe and his mum and Charlie took Patch to the Christmas night market. Patch sniffed at the different new smells and Charlie sniffed too.
‘Roasted chestnuts,’ she said.
They didn’t give Patch any chestnuts, but he got to taste a bit of Christmas cheese.
‘Swallowed in an instant,’ smiled Joe’s mum.
And then Patch got to taste some Christmas sausage from another stall.
‘Was that good?’ Joe asked him as Patch looked up at him, wagged his tail, then put out his paw to ask for more.
‘Try this,’ a stallholder said to Charlie, offering her some bratwurst.
‘Thanks,’ Charlie said, and she gave it to Patch.
‘Not too much,’ Joe’s mum warned. ‘Even though I know he likes it.’
Patch ducked behind Joe’s legs as they went past the man dressed as Father Christmas who rang a clanging bell and said ‘Ho ho ho’.
‘Not too sure about him,’ Joe said, patting the pup.
Back at home Patch fell fast asleep in front of the fire, full of all the food and the sights and sounds he’d experienced, while Joe sat beside him and stroked his soft fur.
Chapter 24
On the morning of the eighteenth of December Joe woke to find everything felt quieter, and the light in his bedroom wasn’t quite the same as usual. He got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. A thick layer of snow covered the garden.
‘Yes!’
He’d been hoping for days that it would snow. He grabbed a coat to wear over his pyjamas and pulled on his wellingtons. Patch jumped off the bed, his tail wagging. He knew from Joe’s excitement that something thrilling was happening, but he didn’t know what.
‘Come on, Patch!’ he said, and Patch ran after him as Joe pelted down the stairs and out of the back door.
Patch came to a stop at the doorstep and for a second just looked at the strange new white stuff that covered his garden.
‘Come on, Patch!’ Joe called to him again, and he grabbed handfuls of the white stuff and threw it up in the air.
If Joe wasn’t scared of it, then Patch wasn’t either. He ran out, lifting his paws high at the shock of the cold on his puppy pads.
Joe made a snowball, throwing it across the white garden, and Patch ran after it. When he reached it he sniffed at the snowball, gave it a lick and then sneezed with excitement. Then he ran round and round the garden, kicking up sprays of snow before he rolled over and over in it, getting himself covered in ice crystals as Joe laughed.
Joe ran inside and grabbed his dad’s camera from the kitchen table and took picture after picture of the puppy.
‘Joe, come on in – you two must be frozen by now,’ his mum called an hour later.
Inside the house Joe drank a steamy mug of hot chocolate and Patch had a dog chew and a long drink of water before they headed back out again as soon as Joe had got properly dressed. Patch brought Squeaker down the stairs and took the toy out into the snow with him.
When they came back in again Mum had put on some Christmas music. ‘Felt right, what with all the snow,’ she smiled.
They’d put up their greetings cards, but hadn’t done much in the way of decorations. The real fir tree they’d always had before had been replaced by a small gold artificial one that was waiting to be unpacked from its box.
‘Pancakes for breakfast?’ Mum offered. Pancakes were Joe’s favourite.
As a special treat Patch had a small amount of chicken with his breakfast. Helper Dogs only provided dry food for their dogs. Patch thought the chicken was very fine and Joe’s mum gave him a little more.
‘There you go – eat it slowly or you won’t even taste it.’ But chicken and slow were two words that didn’t go together as far as Patch was concerned.
After breakfast they took the artificial tree out of the box along with the packet of decorations that came with it.
Joe laughed as Patch tried to squeeze himself inside the empty box.
‘That’s not a dog crate.’
Mum helped to put the baubles on the branches of the tree.
‘It’s not the same,’ Joe said.
‘It’ll never be the same,’ agreed Joe’s mum, giving him a hug.
‘We’ll never forget Dad.’
‘No, we won’t.’
Joe felt very close to tears. ‘And we’ll never forget Patch either.’
‘Never.’
The doorbell rang and Patch ran to see who it was. He wagged his tail when he saw his friend from next door.
‘Been baking,’ Mr Humphreys said, holding out a tray of mince pies and two star-shaped biscuits. ‘The stars are for your little star there. Got a bit of chicken in them.’
‘How kind,’ said Mum. ‘Come in.’
‘Can’t stay long,’ said Mr Humphreys, sitting down in an armchair. ‘Just wanted to say goodbye to this little chap and bring him something tasty. He’s going to leave a big hole in everyone’s hearts when he’s gone.’ Patch rested his head on Mr Humphreys’ knee and looked up as the old man stroked him.
‘I’d have brought him a toy, but you said he could only take one with him.’
‘His favourite toy’s this one,’ Joe said, going to pick up a snow-covered Squeaker from the garden.
‘It’ll dry before tomorrow,’ Mum said.
All day long Joe and his mum did everything they possibly could to make Patch’s last day with them really special. They didn’t talk to each other about how much they’d miss Patch because it didn’t need to be said. They both knew if they were sad it would make Patch sad too, so they concentrated on making his day fun instead.
After lunch Joe and his mum made a snow-man while Patch ran around and barked at it.
‘He should have a snowdog too,’ Joe decided, and he started pressing more snow together. ‘Every snowman should have a snowdog.’
Joe stayed out in the garden with Patch long after it got dark, until finally his mum came out and said it really was time to go to bed.
That night Patch lay next to Joe on his bed, fast asleep and snoring softly. But Joe couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow Patch would be gone and nothing would be the same without him there.
Outside it started to rain, turning the white snow to greyish slush. Joe looked out to see that the snowman and snowdog had already started turning to mush.
Joe picked up his laptop and added a few photos of Patch in the snow to the online diary. This was probably going to be the last time he wrote Patch’s diary for him.
Today my garden was covered with cold white wet stuff called snow. Joe and me played in it for hours and hours. Joe’s mum helped to make a snowdog, although it didn’t look much like me.
Joe added the photo of Patch sniffing at the snowdog. He looked over at Patch as he twitched in his sleep. Today had been a very special day. A day he’d never ever forget. A tear rolled down Joe’s face and he brushed it away with his fingers.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow and more adventures with Sam …
Joe typed.
Sam saw the photos almost immediately and smiled at Patch’s snowy face. Tomorrow he was leaving the hospital. Tomorrow everything was goi
ng to change.
Chapter 25
The next morning Patch woke Joe up by licking his face. He was ready for more snowy adventures. But there was no snow left.
Lenny arrived at ten o’clock to take Patch and Joe in the Helper Dogs van to the Helper Dogs headquarters to drop Patch off for his test the next day.
‘It’ll be good for you to see where Patch’ll be sleeping before his final assessment tomorrow,’ Lenny said. ‘I think you’ll be impressed with the place.’
Joe didn’t know what to say. He felt so many things all at once. He knew he should be excited and happy for Patch, and want him to do well in his assessment, but all he felt was empty.
‘Does he really have to go in his crate in the back?’ Joe asked Lenny. ‘Can’t he come next to me just this once?’
‘It is safest in the crate,’ Lenny said.
Joe sighed. He didn’t want to be even a few centimetres away from Patch during the journey. ‘Can I go in the back with him then?’
‘Go on.’
Joe’s mum came out to say goodbye. She gave Patch one last hug and tucked Squeaker into his crate with him. She then gave Joe a quick hug too and whispered in his ear, ‘He’s going to be just fine. And so are you,’ before quickly turning away.
Joe sat in the back with Patch and stroked him through the bars of his crate. Patch whimpered and licked Joe’s hand, telling him as clearly as he could that he didn’t like being in the crate and wanted to come out.
After only a few minutes, Joe felt the van come to a stop. They couldn’t be there already. It wasn’t time to say goodbye yet, was it?
‘I’m just popping in to see Riley,’ Lenny shouted through to Joe. ‘He’s been out for the first time and is playing with other dogs again. Won’t be a minute,’ Lenny called as he got out.