by Megan Rix
‘My dog Billy used to chew the cushions when he first came to us. But once I’d told him “no” a few times and gave him something else to chew instead he stopped doing it. Pups want to be good but it’s hard for them to always know how to behave if we don’t show them.’
Mrs Hodges nodded. ‘Billy’s lucky to have you,’ she said. ‘How old is he?’
‘Oh, sorry. Billy’s long gone. He’d be almost forty years old by now,’ Mr Humphreys said. ‘Still miss him, though, and even more so since I’ve met young Patch.’
‘Can’t Little Blue be a Helper Pup like Patch?’ Charlie asked.
‘If she’s at all like she was when she was living with me, she can be very wilful at times …’ Mrs Hodges warned.
Charlie grinned at that one. ‘Sounds just like me.’
‘I’m not at all sure she’d be ideal,’ Mrs Hodges said, shaking her head. She looked at Mr Humphreys. ‘What Little Blue could really do with is some stability.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Mr Humphreys said. ‘I bet Patch’s sister could make a really good Helper Dog too. Especially if she had someone like Joe raising her.’
‘Maybe,’ Mrs Hodges said, looking at Mr Humphreys thoughtfully.
‘Perhaps …’ Mr Humphreys said, but at that moment the room immediately hushed when Meera Callum, the head of Helper Dogs, wheeled herself out on to the stage at the far end of the room near the Christmas tree.
‘Thank you so much for coming. I’d like you all to give a big hand to our dogs in advanced training that are spending the holiday with us this year,’ she said.
First to join her on the stage was Hamish and his new partner, then the two Labs with theirs. Joe realized he’d been holding his breath, and exhaled as Patch and Sam finally came out too.
Sam was in a motorized wheelchair and Patch trotted along beside him, his tail wagging as he looked up at Sam every now and again.
‘Where’s Joe?’ Sam asked, and everyone who knew him looked round at Joe.
Joe felt even more embarrassed than at the open day.
‘I never knew your dad,’ Sam said from the stage, ‘but I know he must have been a good man for you and your mum to have done something so amazing in memory of him.’
Joe watched as Patch put his head under Sam’s hand and Sam stroked him. Mum was squeezing Joe’s hand so hard that she was hurting him, but he didn’t mind. He understood. If she hadn’t been squeezing his hand so hard he’d probably have been squeezing hers.
Sam continued. ‘I know Patch is going to change my life in a thousand ways for the better and every day – every hour, in fact – that I’m with him I want to thank you.’
Patch suddenly went still. He’d spotted Joe in the centre of the hall. The next moment he’d jumped off the stage and was bounding over to him.
‘As I said, I never knew your dad,’ Sam went on as Patch found Joe, and Joe hugged the puppy to him. ‘But I know he would have been proud of what you’ve done.’
But Joe didn’t feel proud of himself and his mum; he felt proud of Patch and all that he’d become.
Everyone in the hall started to clap as Sam left the stage and headed over to Joe.
Joe hugged and hugged Patch. He could still see the tiny little pup that he’d once been, but now Patch was starting a new life as a real Helper Dog with Sam.
‘Would you mind if I carry on with his online diary?’ Sam asked as he reached Joe. ‘I’d tell it from Patch’s point of view like you did.’
‘That’d be great,’ Joe said. Then he’d always know how Patch was, and it’d be like he hadn’t totally gone.
‘He learnt so much and so fast when he was with you, it would amaze me reading all about it in the diary,’ Sam said. ‘And now he’s got even more to learn. I always tell everyone I meet what a hero he is. He’s already done so much for me. He’s my hero pup and I know my life would be much less of a life without him in it.’
Sam shook Joe’s hand and at that moment Joe knew he’d done the right thing, even though it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
‘Time to go,’ Joe’s mum said softly. ‘It’s a long journey back.’
‘Keep in touch,’ Sam said.
Joe nodded and crouched down for one last hug with Patch.
As they left the room, Joe looked back and saw Patch gazing after him. Patch wagged his tail and then turned back to Sam.
Epilogue
Just over two weeks later, Joe was reading Patch’s online diary when Charlie came round with a New Year present for him and his mum balanced on her lap.
‘They’re to go outside,’ she told them as Joe opened the parcel and found a set of wind chimes inside. ‘They bring good luck.’
Charlie went into the back garden with Joe to help him find a suitable spot for them.
‘How’s Patch doing?’
‘Brilliantly,’ Joe told her. ‘He and Sam are out and about to the park or the woods just about every day. They’ve just moved into Sam’s flat now and Sam bought a dog bed as Helper Dogs told him to, but so far Patch hasn’t slept in it once.’
‘So where does he sleep?’ Charlie asked.
Joe grinned. Only someone without a dog would ask that.
‘On Sam’s bed.’
‘Oh, I’d like to have a dog to sleep on my bed too. Lenny says it won’t be much longer before I get my own Helper Pup. I can’t wait … What’s that?’
They both looked round at the sound of barking. It was coming from behind Mr Humphreys’ hedge.
Joe’s mum brought them out some hot chocolate.
‘Mum, I think Mr Humphreys might have a dog in his garden,’ Joe told her.
‘Oh, I don’t think that can be right,’ Joe’s mum said doubtfully.
‘It is,’ said Charlie. ‘Mr Humphreys! Mr Humphreys! Have you got a dog?’ she shouted over the fence.
‘Come round and you’ll see!’ Mr Humphreys called back.
‘We’ll be right there.’
It took them less than a minute to ring the doorbell, but it took a long time for Mr Humphreys to open his front door. There was a lot of what Joe and Charlie knew could only be barking coming from inside the house.
‘Hush, now,’ Joe could hear Mr Humphreys saying. ‘Good girl – sit. Now wait.’
Mr Humphreys finally opened the door. His face looked much redder than usual, but he was smiling.
‘There’s someone I’d like you all to say hello to,’ he said, opening the door wider so Charlie could steer her wheelchair inside.
Charlie gave a little yelp and Joe gasped.
Sitting on Mr Humphreys’ carpet was Little Blue. She had managed to sit and wait until Mr Humphreys had opened the door. But it was impossible for her to do so for even a second longer and she jumped up, wagging her tail, as Joe and Charlie rushed in.
‘Charlie, meet Little Blue, or LB as I like to call her,’ Mr Humphreys said. ‘She already knows Joe.’
‘She’s so cute,’ Charlie grinned as she patted her lap and LB put her paws on it.
Joe remembered her being the smallest of Marnie’s litter. She was still smaller than Patch now, but not by much.
‘But I don’t understand …’ Joe started to say.
‘Well, Mrs Hodges and I were chatting at the Helper Dogs party and she told me Little Blue needed a new home. Didn’t work out so well with her first owners. They realized a puppy was too much work for them after all. Anyway, it got me to thinking … Now, I’m not as young as I used to be,’ Mr Humphreys said, looking at Joe. ‘And she’s got an awful lot of energy. So I’ll need some help walking her and taking her to classes. What do you think?’
Joe remembered how much Patch and his little sister had loved each other, and spent hours playing together, and curled up close to sleep when they were tiny pups.
Little Blue wasn’t Patch, and he could never feel the same about any other puppy as he’d done about him. But he thought Patch would be happy if he helped her, and he was sure she’d love learning new
things just as much as Patch had done.
Joe looked at Charlie and up at his mum, who both smiled back at him.
‘We’ll help,’ he said as he stroked Little Blue, and Charlie nodded. He’d like to do that for Patch, his hero pup.
Acknowledgements
Researching and meeting different assistance dogs and the people who work with them for this book has been an absolute pleasure. I’ve been constantly amazed at the variety of helpful things dogs can do for people and would like to thank the humans I met for generously giving of their time to answer my endless questions, and the dogs for allowing me to make a fuss of them.
I’ve been very lucky to work with most of the same wonderful dog-loving team from Puffin on this book as I have for my previous ones. Special thanks to my brilliant editor Anthea Townsend, copy-editors Samantha Mackintosh, Mary O’Riordan and Jane Tait, cover designer and illustrator Sara Chadwick-Holmes and Richard Jones. On the PR side there’s been Rhiannon Winfield and Jessica Farrugia-Sharples, marketing manager Gemma Green, and sales whizzes Tineke Mollemans and Kirsty Bradbury.
Not forgetting my super smart agent Clare Pearson at Eddison Pearson who I’ve worked with for most of my writing career.
I’d also like to thank the many booksellers, bookclubs, librarians and teachers who’ve been such advocates of the books. Bedford Waterstone’s even provided a dog bodyguard for Traffy when she was being swamped by schoolchildren on my last book tour.
The letters and emails I’ve had from children about the books have been a joy to read. One I particularly liked was written by Rebecca, PJ, Bo and Kai from The Vine School. Two of them are now seriously thinking of becoming dog trainers when they grow up and I wish them all the best. Most of the emails I receive ask questions about Traffy and Bella and the assistance-dog puppies I’ve worked with. I hope this book gives a few answers.
Lenny’s dog school owes a big thanks to Happy Dog in Bedfordshire where Traffy and Bella both went to pre-puppy and puppy classes, joined in agility courses, and took their Kennel Club exams and made lots of friends (as did I).
Many of the dogs we met there had come from dog-rescue centres. These dogs had been lucky enough to find a second home after their first one hadn’t worked out. Dog-rescue and rehoming centres receive lots and lots of puppies that are no longer wanted just after Christmas, which is very sad. Having a dog is a big commitment but one that is a joy if it’s carefully thought through first.
Finally, special thanks as always must go to my dear husband and our own two dogs, Traffy and Bella, who’ve happily come along to different dog charity fêtes and fun days as part of my research. For the past year Traffy’s been visiting a local school as a reading therapy dog, listening to children read. Judging by how she pulls me into the school as soon as we arrive, I’d say she very much enjoys going, and the school has reported significant improvements amongst Traffy’s readers.
Bella has come out on stage at a few of my speaking engagements, but truthfully she prefers playing with her ball and swimming in the river.
They both inspire me in a thousand ways every day.
Have you read all
Megan Rix’s wonderful
wartime animal stories?
‘If you love Michael Morpurgo, you’ll enjoy this’ Sunday Express
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Turn the page for an extract from
The Bomber Dog
by Megan Rix
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‘A moving tale told with warmth, kindliness and lashings of good sense’ The Times
Chapter 1
Close to the white cliffs of Dover, a little German Shepherd puppy cowered away from the seagulls that circled menacingly above him. He’d tried to run away from the birds but they were bigger and faster than he was. He’d barked at them but the seagulls’ cries only seemed to mock his high puppy yap.
Molly, a honey-coated spaniel, spotted the puppy and the gulls near the docks. She barked and ran at the large, sharp-beaked birds, scattering them into the drizzly sky of the early February morning. The gulls dodged the silver barrage balloons that floated high in the air, and circled to land on the warships anchored in the harbour, screeching in protest. But they didn’t return.
Once they’d gone, the rain-soaked, floppy-eared, sable-coated puppy came over to his rescuer, whimpering and trembling with fear and cold. Molly licked his blue-eyed face to reassure him and he nuzzled into her. His pitiful cries were gradually calming but his desperate hunger remained.
Molly used her nose to knock over a glass bottle of milk that the milkman had just left at the Dover harbour master’s door. The bottle smashed and the puppy’s little pink tongue lapped thirstily at the milk that flowed on to the ground.
‘Get away from that!’ the milkman yelled angrily, when he saw the puppy drinking. His boot kicked out at him, only narrowly missing the puppy’s little legs. Molly barked at the milkman and she and the pup ran off together with the milkman’s furious shouts still ringing in their ears.
The smell of the sea and the reek of the oil from the ships grew fainter as they ran, but the small dog wasn’t strong enough to run for very long yet, and they slowed to a walk as soon as they left the docks. Molly led the puppy through the outskirts of Dover to her den, a derelict garden shed at the edge of the allotments. There was sacking on the floor, it had a solid waterproof roof, and as an added bonus, every now and again a foolish rat or mouse would enter the shed – only to be pounced on and eagerly gulped down.
The tired puppy sank down on the sacking and immediately fell fast asleep, exhausted from the morning’s excitement. Britain was in the grip of the Second World War, and Dover was a crucially important port, constantly filled with the hustle and bustle of ships and soldiers, but the puppy was blissfully unaware of all that.
Molly lay down too, her head resting on her paws, but she didn’t sleep; she watched over her new companion.
Only a few weeks ago, Molly had been a much-loved pet, until a bomb had hit the house she lived in.
She remembered her owner being put on a stretcher and rushed to hospital, but Molly herself hadn’t been found. She’d stayed hidden amid the rubble, shaking uncontrollably, too traumatized to make a sound.
She’d stayed in exactly the same spot for the rest of the night, covered in debris, too scared to sleep. At dawn she’d crawled out of her hiding place and taken her first tentative steps towards the shattered window and the world outside, alone.
The puppy snuffled in his sleep and Molly licked him gently until he settled. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of lost and abandoned dogs in Dover but at least she and this baby Alsatian had found each other.
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First published 2014