by John Tovey
‘No!’ I gasped.
‘Seriously, just you wait and see. It’s as though their fur isn’t good enough. Personally, I think they look a bit daft, but it’s their owners, you see, they like dressing them up, even if the dogs hate it. I guess I’m a little bit old-fashioned like that. I can’t keep up with all these new-fangled trends for fancy collars and “bling” overcoats, it’s stuff and nonsense,’ he concluded. ‘Anyway, you’ll soon see for yourself.’
If I thought Stan had been exaggerating then I realised I was wrong when Niki pushed open the gate to the park. The place was absolutely massive, with loads of space to run around. I watched as Lisa unclipped Stan, all the while hoping that Niki would let me go for a run too.
‘Go on, Dez! Just a quick one, until you get used to it,’ she said, unclipping my lead.
‘Thanks, Niki!’
Barking, I ran as fast as I could. I ran with Stan until I felt dizzy. As I sat down on the grass, panting, trying to catch my breath, I spotted a tiny dog walking towards us.
‘Hello!’ I called. ‘My name’s Dez. I’m new to this park, but I live around here with my puppy walkers, so I’d like to make lots of new friends. What’s your name?’
But the little dog simply stared at me blankly, stuck her pointed little nose in the air, and strutted by.
‘Well, she wasn’t very friendly,’ I huffed.
Stan flopped down beside me, his tongue hanging out as he panted for breath. ‘Oh, her,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘That’s Maria Fernanda. She’s a Chihuahua. She’s not ignoring you – she’s Mexican so she hardly speaks a word of English. She’s alright when you get to know her, though.’
‘I see,’ I said, even though I didn’t, not really.
Stan held a paw to his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. Maria turned and waved over to him fondly. She signalled with her paw for him to give her a call.
‘I’ll ring soon, I promise,’ Stan said, giving her a wink. It made Maria blush from her pretty little face right down to the tips of her toes.
‘Like I said, you’ll get to meet all walks of life here. Even some pretty ladies.’ Stan grinned.
‘Is she your girlfriend?’ I asked, but Stan wasn’t listening, instead, he was looking over my shoulder.
‘Hang onto your boots, little fella! Here comes Winston.’
I turned my head to see a huge, white, dumpy-looking dog bounding over towards us.
‘Blimey, he’s massive!’ I gasped. ‘What sort of dog is he?’
‘A bulldog,’ Stan whispered out of the side of his mouth. ‘But don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite. Now then, Winston,’ he called out. ‘How are you, old chap?’
‘Ooh, not bad, me old china plate! Mustn’t grumble anyway,’ he replied in a cockney accent. ‘Whatcha, who’s this dustbin lid ’ere then?’ he said, looking down at me.
I gulped nervously because I felt very small indeed.
‘Winston,’ said Stan, clearing his throat. ‘I’d like to introduce my friend Dez. He’s new to the area, just moved in around the corner.’
‘Alright, me old sparrow,’ Winston grinned, grabbing my paw in a firm, meaty grasp, giving it a shake.
‘Oh no, sir! I’m not a sparrow, I’m a Labrador,’ I tried to explain. ‘And one day, I hope to become a guide dog.’
Winston turned to look at Stan and then back at me. He lifted his back paw and gave his right ear a good old scratch.
‘Are you having a bubble bath?’ He smirked, letting out an enormous roar of laughter. ‘Aw, don’t, I think I’m gonna wet me Alan Whicker’s!’
‘What?’
Stan chuckled when he saw the look on my face. ‘Bubble bath – laugh. Alan Whicker’s – knickers! OK?’
I looked down. ‘But he’s not wearing any Alan Whick… I mean, knickers.’
The two of them fell about laughing.
‘I’ll tell you summat for nuffink. He’s Barney Rubble!’ Winston howled, pointing down at me.
‘Barney Rubble?’ I said, turning to Stan for a translation.
‘Barney Rubble – trouble!’
Stan howled.
The English bulldog was laughing so much that he let out a loud fart!
PARP!
‘Oops, sorry about that!’ He chuckled, waving a paw behind his bum to get rid of the smell. ‘It’s just I’m so Mork & Mindy (windy) that I’ve let out a raspberry tart (fart)!’
But I was still confused why Winston had called me a sparrow.
‘No!’ Stan gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘He knows you’re not a bird, it’s just what they say, down in London. Winston’s a cockney, you see, so he talks in what they call Rhyming Slang – it’s what they do down in London, isn’t it, Winston?’
Winston shook his head, but he was still laughing.
‘London!’ I gasped. ‘Do you know the Queen?’
Winston stopped giggling. ‘Her Maj?’ he said, standing up straight. ‘Gawd bless her!’ Suddenly he looked so serious that I half-expected him to salute or something. ‘Nah, listen to me, me old china,’ he said, wrapping a kindly paw around my shoulder. ‘I don’t know the old baked bean.’
‘Queen?’ I butted in, finally cottoning on to his strange way of rhyming two words together to form one.
He nodded and continued: ‘Yep, I don’t know the baked bean, but I do know someone who’s friends with her corgis and they’re right little lords and ladies, so I don’t reckon they’d knock around with an old fella like me.’
Winston had just started telling me about the corgis when an elderly lady called his name.
‘Uh-oh, better go! It’s ’er indoors, wants me back. I better hurry otherwise she’ll Darby and Joan – that’s moan, kid,’ he said, prodding me lightly against my chest. ‘Anyway,’ he added, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll catch you later, china plate (mate),’ he said, turning to Stan, patting him on the shoulder.
‘As for you, Dez, well, you might still have a lot to learn but you’re a good ’un, I can tell.’
With that, Winston turned and left.
‘He seemed nice,’ I said, as we watched him disappear along the grass.
‘Yeah, he’s kind of in charge here but he’s a hard man to please. If he didn’t like you, he’d soon let you know, but I reckon you did okay there.’
‘Did I?’
Moments later, I heard my own name being called.
‘Looks like it’s time to go,’ said Stan, getting up to his feet.
‘Same time tomorrow?’ I asked hopefully.
‘You betcha, kid!’
With that, we strolled out of the park, along the street and back home, where dinner was waiting.
As I snuggled down later that evening on Niki’s lap, I knew everything would be absolutely fine. Maria the Mexican and Winston were just so different from anyone I’d ever met before and now I couldn’t wait to make more friends and start the rest of my new life.
CHAPTER 5
WATER PUP
The following day, it was much warmer, almost too hot for running, but I still gave it my best shot. Stan and I were wandering through the park, with Lisa and Niki close behind, when we saw a bright yellow van pull in through the big main gates. It trundled along the path and parked up at the edge of the slides and swings where the children were playing.
‘I didn’t think cars were allowed in here?’ I said.
‘It’s not a car, it’s a van – an ice-cream van,’ Stan explained.
‘What’s ice cream?’ I asked, a little bewildered.
Stan licked his lips as he tried to describe it in all its glory. ‘Well, it’s a bit like a pudding. It’s a lovely, sweet cream, which is ice-cold. That’s where it gets its name from, ice cream… and it’s utterly delicious.’
‘So you think if we asked nicely the man might let us have an ice cream?’ I suggested, ‘Because I’d love to try one.’
Suddenly, Stan started to choke. ‘Mista Sunshine?’ he spluttered. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! He�
�s the most miserable, meanest man there is.’
‘Er, but he’s called Mista Sunshine?’
‘Yep, I know. Ironic, isn’t it? Nope, there’s no chance he’d give you an ice cream, lolly or even a bowl of water. You see, he doesn’t like dogs, or parks. To be honest, he doesn’t like kids, or even ice cream.’
‘So why does he sell it, if he doesn’t like it?’
Stan shrugged his shoulders. ‘Search me.’
As I watched the children form a queue at Mista Sunshine’s ice-cream van, someone shouted over.
‘Excuse me,’ the voice called.
We both turned to see a white, furry, blue-eyed husky strolling over towards us.
‘Can we help you?’ Stan asked politely.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t be a dear, would you, and tell me where I could pick up a nice cup of hot tea?’
Stan paused for a moment and scratched his head with his back leg. ‘Er, well, there’s a cafe around the other side of the park, near the lake,’ he said, gesturing over towards it. ‘You might be able to get one there. I know they sell them to humans, but I’m not so sure about, er, dogs, because tea isn’t supposed to be good for us.’
‘Oh, thank you so much,’ the husky replied, shivering a little. ‘It’s just that I’m so very cold and I need a little something to warm me up. It’s the weather, you see, isn’t it dreadful?’
I squinted against the sunlight as I looked up at the sun perched in a cloudless blue sky. It was a lovely, warm summer’s day.
‘But it’s not cold. Look how many children are queuing up to buy ice cream. It’s red hot!’
‘Brrr, it isn’t!’ the husky disagreed, rubbing her paws together. ‘I’m absolutely freezing. I only wish I had thicker fur, and then maybe I’d feel a little bit warmer.’
Stan looked at me and back at the husky. Her fur was so thick, it looked as though she’d been rolled in a plump white duvet.
‘Er, but you’re a husky. Aren’t you supposed to like the cold?’ he asked.
At this the husky threw back her head and began to laugh.
‘Oh no, I HATE the cold! If I could, I’d live somewhere hot and sunny, somewhere like Jamaica, somewhere there’s always sun. That’s why I need a hot drink. I need something to take the chill away.’
‘So you don’t like ice cream?’ I guessed correctly.
‘I HATE ice cream! Why anyone would ever want to eat something so cold, well, it’s beyond me. Anyway, toodle pip, chaps,’ she said, shaking all four feet. ‘Must dash, my paws feel like blocks of ice!’
‘She’s a bit bonkers, that one,’ said Stan, circling a paw at the side of his head.
‘Yeah, I reckon she needs some loop the loop.’ I replied in a cockney accent.
‘Eh?’
‘Soup!’
Stan sniggered.
‘Don’t, you’re beginning to sound like Winston!’
Stan and I talked long into the afternoon, but because it was so warm, we found a shady spot under the shadow of some tall trees.
‘Look at those humans, sunning themselves,’ he remarked. ‘I don’t know how they can stand it in this heat!’
He panted. His long pink tongue dangled out of the corner of his mouth. I did the same. It was the only way to feel cooler, because unlike humans, we dogs sweat through our paws and cool ourselves using our tongues, which is why they are always hanging out!
‘So,’ Stan said, breaking the silence. ‘Where are you going on your holidays?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Not sure, I heard Niki telling Jon, my puppy-walker dad, about it. All I know is that we’re going camping with some friends of theirs, and they’ve got a dog called Misty.’
‘Ooh, potential girlfriend material?’ Stan said, nudging me with his elbow.
‘No, nothing like that! I think she’s two, so she’s old enough to be my mum, but it’d be nice to make a new friend. I hope she likes running, otherwise I’m going to be really bored.’
A week or so later, Niki and John packed up the car to go on my first holiday. I jumped happily into the back of it, as the kids piled onto the back seat. The car was full to bursting and so was I – with excitement. I wondered what camping would be like.
‘You’ll love Misty,’ Niki called from the front seat. ‘And I’m sure she’s going to love you, Dez.’
I wagged my tail happily. A holiday and a new friend, I could hardly wait! But I did worry a little bit.
What if Misty was old and didn’t want to run around? Then I’d be really bored.
If I thought I’d be bored with Misty, then I was wrong because she had twice as much energy as me. Short and sandy brown in colour, she had a grey black tail which never stopped wagging.
‘Come on, slow coach!’ she laughed as we ran around the campsite. The grass felt lovely, cool and fresh against the pads of my paws, but I was out of breath just trying to keep up.
‘Hang on, I’m coming,’ I panted, running as fast as my little legs would carry me.
Misty was a girl border Staffie-cross, who loved messing around.
‘So, do you want to play ball?’ she said.
‘What’s a ball?’ I asked, a little confused.
‘It’s a round, bouncy thing, which humans throw. They throw them, we chase them. So, do you wanna play?’
‘Oh, you mean a BALL!’ I exclaimed, ‘Is that what they’re called?’
‘Yeah, but why do you say it like that?’ Misty asked, cocking her head slightly to one side.
‘Because guide dogs aren’t allowed to play with balls.’
‘Why not? Balls are fun, and so are sticks. Do you play with sticks?’
‘No, I’m not allowed to play with them either,’ I said, shaking my head sadly, although I didn’t tell her I didn’t even know what sticks were.
‘What, no balls or sticks? Sheesh, it must be rubbish being a guide dog!’
‘No, it’s not that. We’re supposed to concentrate when we’re working, so we’re not allowed to chase after things like balls just in case they distract us when we’re older.’
‘Well, I think that sounds boring,’ Misty concluded, looking over at me with pity. ‘Listen, kid, I’ve got a secret ball stashed away in a corner over there. Why don’t we go and play with it?’
‘Er,’ I said, checking slyly over my shoulder for Niki, but she was busy talking to Sue, Misty’s owner. ‘Okay, but only if we’re quick because I don’t want to get into trouble.’
Misty smirked and started making bird noises.
‘Chicken,’ she clucked, flapping her paws, making fun of me.
‘Am not!’ I said, sticking out my tongue at her.
‘Come on then, follow me.’
I followed Misty to a corner of the campsite, where she parted some long grass with her front paw. Sure enough, when she pulled it back, there it was – an old, discoloured tennis ball.
‘Catch!’ she whooped.
Misty jumped up with the ball in her mouth. She threw it high in the air, and punched it with one paw. I ran to fetch it, so she did it again and again until I felt dizzy and breathless. After a while, Misty got bored and wanted to rest but I’d only just got started.
‘Come on,’ I said, all revved up like a car engine, ‘don’t stop now!’
I jumped on her neck, giving her a puppy nip to get her to move.
‘But Dez, I’m exhausted!’ she yawned.
‘Tomorrow then, will you come and play tomorrow?’ I begged, my tail swishing behind me frantically.
‘Okay, I’ll call for you, first thing.’
That afternoon when we got back to the tent I was still full of energy. I was just wondering what to do when I caught the scent of a delicious aroma in the breeze.
What was it?
I lifted my head and sniffed some more. Whatever it was, it was definitely coming from the tent next door. I got up and furtively sniffed around the door.
Yep, it was definitely coming from in there. But what was it?
I knew I sh
ouldn’t, but grabbing the zip between my teeth, I unzipped the door and tiptoed into the stranger’s tent.
Now, let me see, I thought, trying to concentrate. I lifted my head and sniffed some more. It was definitely coming over from the corner and I was certain it was sweets. Someone had sweets in their rucksack! I began to feel a little giddy.
Using my paws, I undid the rucksack and pushed my head inside so I could snuffle some more. I heard a paper bag rustle and shoved my snout into it. Opening my mouth, I was just about to take a bite when…
‘DEZ! What on earth are you doing?’
It was Niki.
Uh-oh! I stood up sharply because I’d been caught red-handed, or red-pawed.
‘Dez, what on earth… come here! You must never, ever go in other people’s tents,’ Niki scolded.
I looked up, but I had tell-tale sugar caked around my mouth. It made Niki gasp.
‘But sweets and STEALING! Oh, Dez, what on earth am I going to do with you?’ she sighed.
Niki was right, stealing was wrong. I knew that but I loved sweets so much.
In the end, she tied me to a stick outside the tent to keep me from mischief and to stop me from sneaking into any more tents.
‘You’ve got to learn, Dez. Stealing is wrong,’ Niki insisted.
I sighed and slumped sadly to the ground.
Sorry, Niki, I whimpered, clambering to my feet as she passed by again later that afternoon.
‘Oh, Dez,’ she sighed, ruffling the fur lovingly on the top of my head. ‘The thing is, if I can’t teach you right from wrong, then they won’t take you as a guide dog.’
I looked up at her, my eyes beginning to water.
‘Come on,’ she said, untying the rope. ‘I’ll let you off, but only if you promise to behave yourself.’
I promise! I barked happily.
But Niki was right: if I wanted to make the grade as a guide dog then I was going to have to behave myself, so that’s what I tried to do.
The following morning, Misty called by with her owners, Sue and Paul.
‘Morning!’ she cried in a bright and cheerful voice. ‘Do you want to go and explore?’