Echo Come Home

by Megan Rix

  The old dog tried to reach out to him, but could only just touch him with his right front paw.

  Echo jumped up and grasped the string in his teeth again. It didn’t take long for him to lead the exhausted older dog round the tree a few times so he was free of the post, but not of the string round his neck, which trailed along behind him as he walked.

  The two dogs sniffed at each other as the old dog’s tail wagged and wagged and he licked Echo’s face, happy to be free at last. A moment later, the two dogs heard someone crashing through the bushes towards them.

  The old dog looked at Echo and whimpered. He was shaking with fear as the man headed towards them. The old dog lay down submissively as he towered over him, holding a stick. But Echo didn’t cower, despite being less than half the size of the other dog.

  He ran at the man, barking and growling, and as the man swung the stick towards Echo he raced out of the way. Then Echo started barking again and running back and forth, taunting the man as he ran from side to side while the man tried unsuccessfully to hit him with the stick.

  Meanwhile the old dog, still on his belly, crept further away, back towards the river.

  Finally, the man gave up trying to catch Echo – the little dog was too quick for him – and turned his attention back to the old dog instead. The poor dog looked behind him, saw the man coming and ran off with his tail between his legs. Echo barked at the man as if to say, ‘I’m over here!’

  The little dog raced towards the man and then swerved away as the man swung the stick at him, growing angrier and angrier.

  The old dog was now almost at the riverbank and ahead of him lay the water. He looked back at the man, terror in his eyes, as the man headed after him and raised the stick. Echo raced in between the man’s legs once again and, as he swung the stick downwards at the little dog’s head, the man toppled over and fell down the riverbank into the water below.

  The old dog looked down at the man now splashing furiously in the river and gave one almost laugh-like bark. But, before the man could reach the bank and clamber out, the dogs had already raced off into the distance.

  CHAPTER 23

  As they left the man far behind, the old dog’s steps became jauntier and his tail began to wag. At a spot where the riverbank was less steep the old dog took a long, cool drink of water before he lay down, panted for a little while and fell fast asleep.

  Echo looked over at him and whined. The river’s winding path lay ahead. He wanted to move on, but the old dog didn’t wake up. So Echo lay down and slept too, a long, fitful, twitching sleep.

  When Echo finally opened his eyes in the late afternoon, he could see the old dog was already awake. The little dog jumped up and gave himself a shake as the old dog staggered to his feet too, his tail gently wagging.

  Together they made their way further into the countryside along the riverbank. Echo backed away when curious sheep and lambs came running over to him. But the old dog made reassuring noises deep in his throat as the sheep surrounded them. Echo’s instinct was to run away from the white woolly creatures making strange noises, but the old dog’s wagging tail showed him there was nothing to be afraid of.

  Over the other side of the field there were two horses and a donkey eating grass, but when they saw Echo and the old dog they came over to say hello too. The horses put their great heads over the fence and Echo shied away in fear, but the old dog didn’t. So Echo came back and sniffed at the animals too.

  Next to the field was a small farmyard and Echo and the old dog went into it. Somewhere, not far away, Echo heard someone singing and his tail wagged. But before he could meet the singer he heard a squeak and stopped. It was the squeak of the ball that he and Jake used to play with. The squeak of happy times and fun. Echo gave a whimper and the next second he was running in the direction that the sound had come from with the old dog following along behind him, not sure what was going on.

  Echo was almost bursting with excitement. Jake was here! He must be because that was the sound of the ball and Jake always, always had the squeaky ball.

  The old dog nearly bumped into him as Echo came to a sudden stop.

  Jake wasn’t there. The squeak hadn’t come from the ball. It had come from the goats playing in the corner of the yard and the noise was the creak of an old rocking chair that they were jumping on. There were three of them and Echo soon found out that the other farm animals they’d just met were much calmer than goats. Especially baby pygmy goats.

  The mother goat was lying down on some hay in a stall, but the two baby goats were in constant motion, chasing each other, jumping on things, climbing up and down bits of wood. They never stopped moving and their tails wagged constantly. They danced round the old dog as, tired out from their journey, he went to lie down next to the mother goat. But they wouldn’t let Echo get away so easily. He was just the right size to be their new playmate and they desperately wanted to have fun with him.

  One of them ran at him, pretending to headbutt him, but when Echo scuttled away it only made them want to chase after him. Then it was his turn to chase them. They were very springy. Sometimes they stood up on their back legs and nearly did somersaults as they sprang about.

  Echo was exhausted as the afternoon turned into evening, but when he tried to lie down the goats pushed at him with their heads and tapped him with their hooves. Echo moved but wherever he went they wanted to follow him. At last, he headed into the donkey stable. The baby goats didn’t follow him in there, but the old dog did.

  The hay bedding was sweet-smelling and fresh and the two dogs lay down at the far end and were soon fast asleep. They didn’t stir when the donkey-stable door was closed for the night.

  The next morning the chickens hurried out into the sunshine and Echo and the old dog followed them. The chickens were pecking at bits of corn and grains in the grass. One of them pecked up a worm and another chicken tried to take it as the first chicken ran across the grass, holding the worm in its beak.

  Echo looked up into the sky as a plane flew through the clouds far up above. When the chickens saw it, they raced back into the chicken house and didn’t come out again until it had gone far away. Then, one by one, they popped their heads out of the door and checked it was safe to come out before carefully placing one clawed foot after another on the wooden ramp of the chicken house. Soon all the chickens were back pecking at the grass.

  Suddenly Echo heard a splash followed by a cry and then more splashing and a desperate bleating. One of the baby goats had somehow ended up in a large plastic barrel that was used to collect rainwater, and it was struggling to stay afloat. The other baby goat was bleating too as the mother goat tried to knock the water barrel over. Even though she was butting it with her head again and again, it was too heavy for her to topple.

  Echo barked and barked and when no one came he went running to find help.

  ‘Well, Gloria, I must say you’re looking exceptionally beautiful this morning,’ Louise told the large black-and-pink pig, as she showered her with warm water from the hosepipe.

  Gloria grunted, as if she were agreeing with her. Louise picked up the brush and scrubbed softly at Gloria’s bristled skin.

  Echo came running up to them, barking.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ Louise said brightly, when she saw Echo with the old dog behind him. ‘Word’s got around I see.’

  She’d been running this sanctuary for a few years now and these weren’t the first animals that had turned up by themselves, although more often they were brought in by people who’d either rescued them or couldn’t look after them any more for one reason or another. The sanctuary was really for rescued farm animals, but they did get the occasional cat or dog as well.

  The young dog seemed full of energy. But the old dog definitely looked like he could use some TLC and they’d come to just the right place for that.

  The old dog pushed his head under Louise’s hand for a stroke and she happily obliged.

  Echo put his paw on Louise’s leg,
as he’d been taught, but Louise didn’t understand what he meant and stroked him instead. Echo whined and then moved away and barked, and at last she stood up and followed him. As they neared the rainwater barrel, Louise could see something was very wrong. She ran over to it and reached in, pulling the sodden, exhausted baby goat out.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. You’re all right,’ she said, holding it close to her as its little body trembled. ‘What a good dog you are,’ she said to Echo, and Echo wagged his tail as the old dog came forward and pushed his head under Louise’s hand for another stroke.

  Louise sat down on a haystack with the little goat and rubbed him with handfuls of hay to warm him up.

  Half an hour later, the little goat was back playing with his brother, but the water barrel now had its lid securely on and Louise had put a box on top of it to make doubly sure it was safe. If the little dog hadn’t come to fetch her, she dreaded to think what might have happened to Billy.

  CHAPTER 24

  ‘Hungry?’ Louise asked the two dogs. She was sure that the older one must be. He was far too thin and had bald patches where he’d lost fur.

  They’d just had two sacks of dog biscuits donated to them that morning, but the old dog’s teeth wouldn’t be able to crunch them up. She’d need to soak them in some gravy first so they got nice and soft.

  Louise also looked after chickens that had come from the battery farm. They wore little jumpers that volunteers had knitted to keep them warm until their feathers grew back. They had laid three eggs in the barn, which was a good sign. Louise didn’t eat eggs herself, but she thought the dogs might like some for breakfast.

  Echo watched as the pig waded into a muddy pond and rolled over in it, getting covered in muck. He gave a small, involuntary whine as if he couldn’t understand why any creature would want to do that.

  ‘Come on then,’ Louise said, getting up from the hay bale she’d been sitting on. Echo stopped watching the pig and ran after the old dog and the friendly lady.

  Once the old dog had finished his softened food and had a long drink of water, he lay down in a sunny spot and drifted off to sleep. Louise smiled as she watched his chest rise and fall. He looked quite at home already.

  ‘Hercules,’ she said to herself. It seemed like a good name for him. If he didn’t have a name already, of course. She’d get one of the volunteers from Dog Lost to check if either of the dogs were microchipped, but if the old one didn’t have a chip and didn’t belong to anyone then she was going to name him Hercules. He had to be about thirteen years old and he looked like he was part of the sanctuary already.

  By the time she’d seen to the geese, she’d decided for sure. She wasn’t going to put Hercules up for adoption if no one came forward to claim him: this would be his home for the rest of his life.

  ‘But this can’t be your home, little Sprite,’ Louise told Echo, who was following her around as she did her chores. ‘Someone’s bound to want a lovely little dog like you.’

  Hercules looked a lot better after some good food and lots of sleep and his fur shone after his bath. He’d loved being dried! But when she tried to give Echo a bath he ran off towards the cow field.

  ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to have a bath if you don’t want to,’ Louise called after him. And Echo stopped running and came back.

  ‘Now let’s take your pictures,’ Louise said, pulling out her phone. There was a chance someone might be missing both dogs and she had to give them every opportunity to claim them.

  Hercules’ picture was easy to take, but little Sprite kept moving about so Louise wasn’t able to get a good one and even her best effort was still blurry.

  ‘Oh well, it’ll have to do for now,’ she said, as she used her phone to email the photo to the Dog Lost website. ‘I’ll try and get a better one when you’re asleep and keeping still for once.’

  Echo wagged his tail.

  Every afternoon when he got home from school Jake found that the postman had brought more and more squeaky balls as well as other toys for Echo. But, before he opened the presents, Jake always checked the internet to see if there’d been any new possible sightings.

  Today there was a blurred photo of a dog that looked a little bit like Echo, only it was hard to tell because the dog must have moved while it was being photographed. It had been taken by someone from the Home to Roost farm animal sanctuary only ten miles away.

  ‘It could be him, Mum. It really could,’ Jake said, as his mum squinted at the picture.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said doubtfully.

  She tried ringing the sanctuary, but no one answered the phone. So she left a message, but that wasn’t enough for Jake.

  ‘We could be too late, Mum …’

  Jake’s mum sighed. She’d had a long day at work and the photo was such poor quality. It was impossible to tell if it were Echo or not. She opened her mouth to say no when she saw the desperate look on Jake’s face.

  ‘OK,’ she said, as she picked up the car keys. ‘Come on then.’

  Dawn, the nearest Dog Lost volunteer, arrived at the sanctuary to see if the dogs were microchipped.

  ‘No microchip on this one,’ Dawn said, once she’d carefully checked the old dog’s fur. ‘His teeth are a bit of a mess and his breath isn’t pretty,’ she added, as the old dog panted. ‘He’s much too thin and his coat’s terrible.’

  Louise didn’t mind about any of that. Hercules was home. And it was time for his friend to be home too.

  ‘Sprite!’ she called. ‘Sprite – where are you? He was here just a minute ago.’

  They looked everywhere but Echo had gone.

  Jake had never been to a farm animal sanctuary before and he didn’t quite know what to expect as they drove through the gates of Home to Roost a short while later.

  His stomach felt all swirly as he thought about finding Echo. He hoped so very much that the dog in the picture was him.

  ‘Hello there,’ Louise said, as they got out of the car.

  She had Gloria the giant pig right behind her as she made her evening rounds. Jake was a bit worried about Gloria, but Louise told him that Gloria was very gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  Jake’s mum told Louise they were there about the dog she’d taken a photo of.

  ‘The big one or the little one?’ Louise asked.

  ‘The little one,’ Jake said. He hadn’t known there were two.

  Louise’s face fell. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘When Dawn came to check the dogs’ microchips, we couldn’t find little Sprite anywhere. I think he must have run off.’

  She told them how Sprite had saved one of the baby pygmy goats from drowning. How the little dog had raced to fetch her, put a paw on her leg and led her over to where the baby goat had got himself trapped in the rainwater barrel.

  ‘Those little goats are into everything,’ Louise said, rolling her eyes. ‘They just have no fear.’

  ‘It had to have been Echo,’ Jake said. ‘He’s a trained hearing dog and that’s what they do. They put their paws out to alert someone in case they can’t hear. It must have been him.’

  But Jake’s mum wasn’t quite so sure. ‘Other dogs could do that too,’ she said.

  ‘It was him,’ Jake insisted, his voice catching in his throat. He had to believe it was because that might mean that one day, somehow, Echo would come back to him. ‘Maybe he’s still here somewhere. Maybe he hasn’t gone.’

  He turned away so they couldn’t see his face and how upset he was. But it was devastating to know that he had only just missed him.

  ‘We can look again,’ Louise said, and Jake and his mum followed her as she made her way round the sanctuary, looking in all the barns and hiding places she could think of. ‘Fewer than a quarter of the people who come to look at the animals ever take one home with them,’ Louise said sadly.

  ‘I know what it’s like not to be picked,’ Jake said.

  Louise nodded. ‘Sometimes it’s not fair, is it?’

  An old horse put it
s head over the fence and Jake ran his hand along its face.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ he said.

  ‘They all are,’ Louise smiled. ‘Most of them were going to be put down, or eaten, when they ended up here. I’m not even sure where some of them came from – they just turned up. One of the sheep was tied to my gate and I still don’t know who put her there, but I’m very glad they did. Aren’t I, Woolly?’

  Woolly nuzzled Louise’s hand to see if she had any treats.

  ‘The only problem is the more animals I get, the harder it is to look after them all,’ Louise added.

  ‘I could help,’ Jake said. ‘And I bet my friend Tony would too.’ Maybe Miss Dawson would even be able to make helping at the farm sanctuary a class project once the dog one was finished.

  Jake paused by the chicken coop as something unexpected caught his eye.

  ‘Erm … why are those chickens wearing jumpers?’ he asked.

  CHAPTER 25

  It was twilight as Echo ran across the wasteland. Ahead of him, beyond the wide road, lay a river, and rivers led to home. He ran down the grassy bank and was halfway across the road when a huge lorry came bearing down on him and there was no time to run. He lay down flat on the tarmac as the lorry drove right over him and then swerved to the side with a squeal of brakes.

  ‘Oh no. No!’ the driver cried, as he stopped the lorry and jumped out. The little dog was lying very still. If it stayed where it was in the road, it was in danger of being run over again. The motorway was no place for a dog. No place for someone on foot either. Especially at twilight when drivers were only just starting to put on their headlights and oncoming vehicles weren’t always so easy to spot.

  The lorry driver checked and double-checked for traffic before running into the road and scooping up the little dog and hurrying back to the lorry with him. At least he couldn’t see any blood.