WOOF! WOOF! The barking was getting louder. “Emily, I’m not completely sure. . .” Dad began saying just as they ran into a clearing. He broke off, and they both stopped running immediately.
“I’m not sure that is Pickle,” Dad said quietly.
Emily’s heart sank. There in front of them were two Border terriers excitedly bounding about together, with their owner coming up behind. One of the dogs barked again, and Emily felt a stab of disappointment as her excitement drained away. It had been these dogs that they’d heard, not Pickle. She’d been so certain it was him, too!
Dad put a hand on her shoulder while he asked the terriers’ owner if he’d seen a lost spaniel puppy. “Sorry, no,” the man said. “But give me your number in case I do.”
The man and his dogs went on their way. “Let’s keep looking,” Dad said.
Emily nodded, trying to stay positive. Pickle had to be somewhere, she reminded herself. And wherever he was, she would find him, even if it took her all day.
Emily and Dad searched through every part of the woods, including around the pond – although after his dunking on Friday, Emily was pretty sure Pickle would be more cautious about going anywhere near that for a while! Once they were confident that he definitely wasn’t in the woods, they went out into the surrounding fields. Here, at least, the land was flatter and it was easier to see people and dogs from a distance, but they made a point of walking up and down all the hedgerows that edged the fields just in case Pickle had fallen asleep or got stuck under one of them.
Next, they double-checked around the farms and asked the farm workers if they had seen Pickle. Nobody had, but everyone promised to keep an eye out. By now, Emily and Dad were hungry and thirsty after their early start, so they sat down to have a drink and a snack. While Emily munched through a flapjack and a banana, Dad phoned Mum to see if she had any news.
“No sightings yet,” he told Emily as he ended the call. “But Mum says she and Jack have put up posters all over the village. There’s one on every street, and Mrs Abrahams at the shop has put one in her window, too. She’s going to make sure all her customers see it, apparently.”
Emily smiled. Mrs Abrahams was the nice kind of shop owner who’d often slip extra sweets into your bag with a wink, and on hot days she always left a bowl of water outside her shop so that passing dogs could have a drink. Suddenly Emily stiffened. “Dad – did you hear that?”
They both sat very still and listened. There it came again – a very faint barking.
Dad wrinkled his nose. “There are lots of dogs out today, Em,” he reminded her. “We can’t get too excited every time we hear one.”
“I know, but. . .” Emily paused, straining to listen again. Silence. “That did sound like Pickle.”
“Em–” Dad said gently.
“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “I said that last time and I was wrong. But this dog sounds more yappy, as if it’s younger. Listen.”
They both listened, but there was nothing to be heard now, just the low mooing of cattle in a field somewhere behind them. “Piiiiiickle!” Emily shouted at the top of her voice.
Yap. Yap-yap. “It’s him,” Emily said, jumping to her feet. “Dad, I know it’s him. He must be somewhere around here.”
Dad packed away the thermos flask he’d been drinking from. “Try not to get your hopes up,” he said. “It might not be him.”
“I know,” Emily replied. “But if it’s somebody else’s dog again, at least we can ask its owner if they’ve seen Pickle.” The yapping came again. “I’ve just got a feeling it’s him.”
“Come on, then,” Dad said, swinging the backpack on to his shoulders. “Follow that yap!”
They set off across the field, pausing every now and then to listen. “PICKLE!” Emily shouted.
Woof-woof! Yap-yap!
They were getting closer, she thought, quickening her step. And the closer they got, the surer she became that it was her dog.
“Pickle, we’re coming!” she yelled.
Woof! Woof! “It’s definitely him,” she said, breaking into a run. “I don’t understand why we can’t see him, though. He sounds quite near now.”
Dad jogged beside her. “Pickle!” he called.
WOOF! WOOF! Emily’s heart tightened. She knew that was Pickle – she just knew it. They’d found him at last! But she still couldn’t see him, even though the barking was so close.
“Sounds kind of echoey,” Dad mused as they ran – and then all of a sudden he grabbed hold of Emily and held her tight. “Whoa!” he cried.
Emily gasped in alarm. There in front of them was a hole in the ground – a large hole about two metres across, as if the earth had just given way there. She stared in horror at the rocky walls of the hole. From where she was standing with Dad, she couldn’t tell how deep it was, but her legs felt wobbly just looking at it. Two more steps and she would have plunged straight down it. Was that what had happened to her poor little Pickle?
Woof-woof-woof, went the barking, impatiently now, as if to say, Well, why have you stopped? I’m still here, you know!
Dad was right. The barking did have an echo. “I think he must be down there,” Dad said grimly. “Stay away from the edge, Em. We don’t know how stable the ground is around here.”
Emily bit her lip. She wanted to cheer with joy that they’d found Pickle – but how on earth were they going to get him out of the hole? And was he all right?
“How deep do you think it is?” she asked Dad, desperate to peer into the crater-like hole. She didn’t dare go any closer to it in case the ground collapsed beneath her feet.
Dad lay down on his front and squirmed carefully towards the edge, moving just a few centimetres at a time. “Well, I can’t see the bottom of it,” he said, peering down. “It’s too dark. Must be an old mineshaft or something – you do get them opening up from time to time. Actually, yes, I seem to remember hearing that there was a mine around here years ago. It must be from that. In a louder voice he called out “Pickle, are you there?” There-there-there went the echo.
Woof! Woof! came the excited response. “Oh fella,” Dad said. “Have you been down there all night?” He reached back and pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket. Shuffling backwards so that he didn’t risk dropping it into the hole, he pressed a button that made it work as a torch. Then he inched forward again and shone the bright beam of light downwards.
“Yep, I can see him,” he said, peering into the gloom. “Hello, mate. Hello!”
Pickle barked joyfully. It was absolutely the best sound in the world, Emily thought. “I’m here too, Pickle,” she called happily. “I promise we’ll rescue you!”
“He’s standing up wagging his tail, so hopefully that means he hasn’t broken any bones,” Dad went on. “Good boy, you wait there. We’ll find a way to get you out, don’t worry.”
He shuffled back again and stood up, and then he and Emily hugged each other. “I’m so glad we’ve found him,” Emily said, tears of relief pricking her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s down there, though. Poor thing – what a shock it must have been for him: running along cheerfully only to suddenly fall into an enormous hole!”
“No wonder we couldn’t see him,” Dad said. “And it’s a miracle he seems OK.” He shook his head. “Typical Pickle. He can’t even get lost in a boring, sensible way, can he? He’s got to turn it into a crazy adventure.”
Emily grinned. She felt so so happy that they’d found her puppy she could hardly put the feeling into words. “Let’s tell Mum the news,” she suggested.
“Good idea,” Dad said, dialling home. “We claim the cake!” he cried when Mum answered.
Mum’s reply was so high-pitched with excitement that Emily could hear every word. “You found him?”
“We did, although he’s a bit stuck right now. . .”
Dad went on to explain
the situation while Emily sat as near to the edge of the hole as she dared and talked to Pickle, telling him all the lovely things they would do together just as soon as he was out.
Woof, went Pickle eagerly as soon as she mentioned the word “squirrel”.
After speaking to Mum, Dad phoned the RSPCA, a charity who rescued animals in trouble and also had vets who could care for ill or injured creatures. The person he spoke to suggested contacting the local fire station, too, as specialist equipment might be needed for the rescue.
“Don’t worry, Pickle,” Emily called. “The rescue team are on their way!”
Dad sat with Emily by the hole while they waited for help to arrive. The nearest road was the farm track at the edge of the field, and after about twenty minutes or so, the Fire and Rescue Service truck arrived, quickly followed by an RSPCA vehicle.
“Here they are,” Dad said, as two fire officers got out of the truck and came walking over towards them. “Hopefully they’ll have a ladder that’s long enough to reach down there.”
Emily smiled. “Did you hear that, boy?” she called. “Not much longer in the hole. We’ll soon have you out.”
A low woof greeted her words.
“Hello there,” said the first fire officer as he and his colleague arrived on the scene. He was a tall, sandy-haired man with lots of freckles. When he saw the hole in the ground he gave a low whistle. “Goodness me. Well, that’s definitely a disused mineshaft. A big one, too, by the looks of things. Once we’ve got your dog out we’ll have to find out who owns the land here and get them to cap it off.” Seeing Emily’s blank gaze, he added, “That means we’ll cover it over with some strong mesh so that nobody else can fall down it.”
“But before that,” said the second fire officer, who was a woman with short dark hair and blue eyes, “we’d better see about getting your poor little puppy out, hadn’t we?”
“Yes, please,” said Emily.
Woof! went Pickle, as if he could understand every word. Yes, please, and can you hurry up about it? I’ve got squirrels to chase, not to mention my Emily to lick, Emily imagined him saying.
The officers from the RSPCA team drove across the field and parked nearby. Two men got out wearing smart, navy blue and white uniforms. “Hi, guys,” said the first. “What’s the story here, then? We’ve been told there’s a six-month-old spaniel puppy who’s down the hole, is that right?”
“That about sums it up,” Dad replied.
The first RSPCA man opened the back doors of their 4 x 4. “I’m Gary,” he said, “and this is Alex. We’ve brought some kit with us to help with the rescue.”
“That way we can treat your dog as soon as we get him out,” added Alex.
The fire officers talked in low voices together, and then the sandy-haired man did what Dad had done – he lay on his front to safely examine the hole. He ran his hands around the top of the hole, sending a small shower of soil tumbling down. Pickle gave a surprised yelp below.
“Sorry, pal,” the man said. He stood up again and shook his head. “I don’t like the look of this,” he said. “I reckon it’s at least ten metres deep, and even a preliminary look tells me that it’s unstable. I can’t risk myself or Jen here going down, I’m afraid – or anyone else. We could end up injuring ourselves or sending a rockfall on to the dog.”
Emily felt dismayed. This was not what she’d wanted to hear. Not at all! “So… how are we going to get him out?” she asked nervously. “We can’t just leave him down there.”
Alex gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, there are other things we can try,” he said. “We can send down a Vari Kennel on a harness and see if he’ll climb into it.”
“A what?” Emily asked. “A kennel?”
“A Vari Kennel,” Alex repeated. “It’s a pet carrier. If we lower it down with the door open, with a bit of luck, he might climb inside. And then—”
“You can pull him up, like a bucket from a well!” Emily finished. She smiled, imagining Pickle’s happy face peeping out as he rose to the surface.
“Exactly,” Gary said.
“So how will this harness work, then?” Dad asked. “Have either of you got a winch?”
Jen, the fire officer, took out some keys from her pocket. “One winch coming right up,” she said. “I’ll just grab it from the truck.”
“And we’ve got a harness and Vari Kennel that’ll be the perfect size for your dog,” Alex said, before heading towards the van. “Let’s do it!”
It was all starting to feel rather exciting, Emily thought as the rescue team sprang into action. The winch Jen brought back looked like a canister, with steel rope wound around a central spool and a solid metal base that would keep it firmly on the ground. There was a large hook on the end of the rope, and Alex attached it securely to the harness. The harness was made up of four metal chains, which he and Gary clipped tightly to the sturdy plastic kennel.
“Ready?” Jen asked.
“Ready,” Gary replied, positioning the kennel so that it dangled over the hole.
Jen pressed a button and a motor inside the winch began to whirr. Then the cable started spooling out, lowering the harness and kennel into the mineshaft.
“Cool,” said Emily. She felt giddy at the thought of Pickle being hoisted back up again in the pet carrier. It would be like a ride at a doggy funfair for him!
Gary lay down and shone a torch into the hole. “Keep going,” he instructed as the kennel vanished into the shaft. “Keep going. And… stop. It’s at the bottom now.”
Jen turned off the motor and the cable was still.
“Good lad,” Gary called down encouragingly to Pickle. “He’s sniffing the kennel,” he told the others. “Go on, boy, that’s it, in you get.”
Silence fell as they waited hopefully for Pickle to do what he was told. Emily realized she was holding her breath. “Go on, Pickle,” she called, imagining his puzzled face. What is this they’ve sent down? he was probably wondering. “Climb in, Pickle, good boy,” she urged.
A few moments passed. “Hmm,” said Gary, still shining the torchlight down. “He’s not having it, I’m afraid. He’s just backing away looking confused.”
Emily sighed but Dad squeezed her hand. “I imagine he’s still a bit jittery after the shock of falling,” he said. “Perhaps he doesn’t understand what we’re trying to do.”
“He’s most likely scared,” Alex agreed. “Animals often panic when they’re stuck like this.”
“The kennel probably smells of other animals, too,” Gary added. “Go on, boy, get in. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Come on, Pickle, it’s OK,” Emily called. They had to make this work, she thought desperately. Pickle had to get in the kennel, there was no other way out!
“Nope,” Gary said after a while. “He’s still backing away from it, looking very wary. Let’s give him another minute or so, and then we’ll try something else.”
“Could we tempt him up here with food?” Emily suggested. “He knows the sound of the puppy-food box when you shake it. He might work out that we’re trying to rescue him if he hears it.”
“It’s worth a try,” Alex said. “He must be pretty hungry by now.”
Gary edged back from the hole and stood up, brushing himself down. “We can also try sending down some things from home that he’s familiar with,” he added. “Anything that smells of home will make him feel safer.”
“We could send down your slippers, Dad,” Emily suggested. “He loves playing with those.”
“So he does,” Dad said. “Well, we can give it a shot.” He got his phone out again. “I’ll call Mum and ask her to bring them along with the box of puppy food.”
“And his cuddly bear,” Emily added. “The one he sleeps with every night. That might cheer him up.”
It felt good to be doing something helpful, she thoug
ht as Dad phoned Mum. Emily might not have a winch and harness to rescue her dog, but she was Pickle’s best friend, and knew him better than anyone. Surely some breakfast and his favourite bear would be enough to tempt Pickle into the kennel and up to safety. Wouldn’t it?
Jen the fire officer pressed the button to haul up the kennel. The motor whirred and the spool began to rotate anticlockwise, winding the cable neatly back on to the drum. Once it had reached the surface, Alex lifted the kennel over the edge of the mineshaft and set it back on the ground.
Dad passed around a packet of biscuits while they waited for Mum and Jack to arrive. Emily heard Pickle give a little whine as if he could smell the food. Poor thing, she thought. He must be so hungry and thirsty down there. He was normally ravenous at breakfast time every morning – and now he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for over twenty-four hours.
After about ten minutes, they saw the family’s blue car pull up behind the fire truck, and Mum and Jack emerge. Jack had a huge smile on his face as they approached. “You found him!” he cried happily. “Pickle, it’s me, Jack!
Pickle woofed in reply.
Mum was carrying a large bag on her shoulder. She grabbed Jack’s hand as they neared the hole. She hugged Dad and Emily, then turned pale as she saw the mineshaft. “My goodness,” she said, her hand flying up to her mouth. “I can’t believe it. Is he really down there? It’s a miracle he even—”
She broke off quickly, glancing at Jack, but Emily could guess what she’d been about to say – that it was a miracle Pickle had even survived after such a fall. Emily couldn’t bear to think that way. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you bring the things we asked for, Mum?”
Mum gathered herself. “Yes,” she said, taking the bag off her shoulder. It was the one they sometimes used for picnics. She reached inside. “I’ve brought along Pickle’s food, some of his toys, and Dad’s slippers. Oh, and the blanket from his basket, too. I’ve been meaning to wash that all week because it’s a bit smelly – I’m glad I didn’t.”
Puppy Gets Stuck Page 4