Saving Maya

by Janetta Harvey

  “Gosh, look at the time, we’d better get moving,” Patsy patted Willow, who turned herself over and jumped off the sofa in one smooth movement.

  “Val’s coming about 12, so just time to get a quick walk in before she arrives. It’s exciting, we’ll hear all about our new friend.”

  11

  She who saves a single soul, saves the universe.

  Lewis Carroll,

  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  We’re in my concrete cell, the dusty air of the barn is thick in my nostrils. She’s standing with me in her arms. Her warm, strong arms. And I’m petrified. I’m desperately trying to hold my head still and look straight ahead. I must not look at her.

  Must not look.

  I can hear and feel her breathing above my head. It’s calm and steady, and her warm, sweet scented breath is softly brushing the top of my head. Her arms are cradling my weak body with a hold that’s not as tight as I thought it was a second or two ago. It’s secure but not painful. I just thought it would hurt when she lifted me off the cold floor and into her arms. But no, it doesn’t, although I’m still scared as hell. My ribs press against her arms as I let out my own tight breath, just a tiny bit. A release of small breath and slight movement into the soft cushion of her arms.

  My head’s spinning now as she turns slowly, moving towards the open gate of my pen. I can’t see or hear the Man. I’m not really able to see much as I must keep my head still; I daren’t move it to see where he is. I’m safest when I don’t move.

  Now where is she taking me? Her body bumps and squashes against mine as she carries me out of the pen, along the dingy path. I think I can see a light at the end, far in the distance through the murky barn, yes, there’s a definite blur of light. She’s talking to me as she walks towards the growing brightness; I’m certain she’s speaking to me but I can’t understand anything. My head is a swirl of confusion. The sounds in the barn are different. There are other voices, ones I’ve never heard before and coming towards us is another person, a man I think but I can’t see him clearly. I’ve been used to the darkness for so long, the new light’s making my eyes sting.

  Blink, blink, now he’s closer, I can see he’s also wearing a dark uniform. He stands in front of us and we stop. He speaks quietly to the woman and looks down at me, they’re talking above my head and I sense they’re cross. But, not with me. I can’t say how I know this, but I know for certain that it’s not me they’re angry with. They pity me, I sense their sad, heavy hearts full of pity… for me.

  The new man looks closely at me, he bends his face close to mine, and I can see him for the first time. I let myself for a flash of a second look at him. His bearded face is kind; he whispers something to me and I feel his gentle touch on my shoulder. And it terrifies me.

  12

  You’re mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.

  Lewis Carroll,

  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  After a brisk walk across the Downs, shortly after they got back to the house, and Patsy had whizzed around doing last minute tidying, there was a sharp tap-tap on the door knocker. Willow bounded through the hallway, skidding to a halt as she reached the front door, plonked her bottom neatly on the mat, and looked keenly up at Patsy, waiting for her to open the door.

  “Now be your best, sweetie” Patsy smiled down at her, opening the door.

  On the doorstep stood Val, a small, silver haired lady wearing a neat pink jacket, sky blue jumper, smart black trousers and a huge smile. Willow, sitting on the doormat at Patsy’s feet, searched Val’s face, scanning every tiny detail, picking up information, trying to look into her eyes which seemed to have disappeared into smiling crinkles.

  “Hi, Val I presume?” Patsy smiled, reaching out her hand which Val took warmly in both of hers as she stepped into the hallway.

  “Oh yes, yes, so pleased to come and meet you both,” Val smiled, slowly bending down on one knee to be closer to Willow’s level, turning her head slightly away and offering the back of her hand, for Willow to sniff and inspect.

  “And you must be Willow, I’ve heard lots of good things about you, little darling,” she cooed, as Willow nuzzled her hand, pushing her fluffy grey head up underneath it for a more hearty stroke. She could tell this new person was someone she was going to like very much indeed, everything felt, and smelt good about Val.

  “Aren’t you a gorgeous girl?” Val cupped Willow’s bristly chin in both her small, brown speckled hands, gently rubbing her fingers through Willow’s freshly washed and brushed, bushy white beard.

  Oh yes, that had been the only blot on Willow’s day yesterday. Patsy had decided that, as Val was coming to talk about her new sister, she needed a bath and beard wash and this was never on Willow’s long list of fun things to do. She could never understand why, out of the blue, suddenly Patsy felt the need to plop her in the bath tub, scrub and shampoo her with sweetly smelling gooey stuff, and then rinse it all off again. She hated the warm water trickling down her face, through her beard, while up and down her body and legs Patsy moved the shower spray, until she decided it had been going on for long enough.

  Why, oh, why was all that annoying water needed? Willow wondered this every single bath-time as she did her best to stand still and not wriggle about. Standing still was essential, but hard. She found that if she lost concentration and shook herself in the middle of the rinsing off, spraying water all over the bathroom walls, the showering would go on even longer, prolonging the ordeal, so she did her absolute best to stand still. But this was not easy when the water was running down through her ears, making them soggy and heavy, flattening them to the side of her head; and her eyebrows, dripping wet, all over her eyes so she couldn’t see a thing except a wet curtain of her own fur. Baths were definitely a great annoyance in Willow’s life.

  Then, suddenly, it would be over, Patsy turned off the taps, and it was done. Shampooed, rinsed, finished. Just like that! But, and this Willow could never understand, to make it seem even more of a pointless ordeal, Patsy always then set about briskly drying her. Why, Willow wondered did she get her all wet in the first place? And there was an even odder thing, Patsy never let Willow do what she really wanted, something that she was rather good at doing, and which she loved the most. Which was to give herself a violent head to tail shake, followed by a bonkers run around the house drying her face on the carpets and edges of the sofas. Then, and this was the very best bit, she’d take a flying leap up onto Patsy’s bed to roll herself over and over right in the middle of it. The big expanse of crisp, white clean duvet was the perfect drying spot. The problem was, Patsy didn’t seem to agree and most bath days she insisted on wrapping Willow up in a big, warm, fluffy towel, cuddling her tightly to her chest and rubbing dry Willow’s dripping wet, furry body. Although Willow loved the cuddle, it seemed a daft way to end what was, from start to finish, a tedious and not enjoyable pastime. The only sliver of fun Willow had ever winkled out of having a bath was the boisterous post-bath drying run around the house and up and over the furniture. That always felt ridiculously good.

  Never mind, yesterday’s bath was the last thing on Willow’s mind as she sat on the doormat, close to Val’s bent knee and soaked up the generous supply of gentle strokes. Val really was an excellent stroker, Willow thought, as she felt a pair of confident hands moving slowly, expertly along her shoulders and down her back. Clearly here was a person who knew how to make a dog happy Willow decided, as her head drooped lower and lower and she couldn’t resist sliding down and flopping over onto her back, offering up her tummy to Val’s magical hands.

  “Come on Willow, I think that’s enough soppy girl for now,” Patsy laughed, as Val gave Willow’s tummy a final, gentle pat as she stood up and followed Patsy through to the kitchen where tea and lemon drizzle cake were waiting. Willow pulled herself quickly roun
d and up onto her four paws, and trotted alongside Val, feeling happily stroked, wagging her fluffy tail as she went. She was eager to snaffle a taste of cake if she could, as Val seemed a softie worth trying her cake-begging skills out on. And of course, she wanted to hear more about her new sister.

  “Willow’s a little sweetheart,” Val smiled, as she sat herself at the kitchen table, nodding as Patsy offered her tea.

  “Oh she is, really she’s such a lovely dog,” Patsy said, as she put the white china mug of tea on the table in front of her guest. “I’m sure she’s going to love having a new sister, but, I want to be really sure it’s the right thing for us all.”

  “Of course, you’re doing exactly the right thing here, taking your time, thinking it through, and this home visit’s really helpful for all of us,” Val glanced over at Willow who was sat in her bed, patiently waiting for the cake to be cut. “It’s important you and I are both happy with everything, and you’re clear about what’s ahead, and what help you might need and you know you can always phone me and ask for that,” Val looked deeply into Patsy’s eyes, slightly raising her eyebrows as she made certain Patsy understood the offer of help was there.

  “Thanks, I’m hoping we won’t need to bother you much, but that’s great to know,” Patsy nodded, taking a sip of tea.

  “Ok, let me tell you all about Maya”, Val said.

  13

  Genuinely good people are like that. The sun shines out of them. They warm you right through.

  Michael Morpurgo,

  Alone on a Wide Wide Sea

  I’m awake, not knowing where I am for a few terrifying seconds. My mind grapples with the flood of confusing messages my body is sending me: soft bed, clean blanket, no sawdust, thick carpet, sweet smells, no dogs crying or barking, no hunger, no concrete walls, soft lights, warm glow from the fire burning in the grate. And her. Sitting there. Now I remember what’s happened, as my brain sorts through the muddling blur and I relax as I remember her. The silver-haired, quietly spoken human, with soft, freckled hands, who brought me here a few days ago is sitting there, in an armchair, across the room. She’s watching me, but pretending she’s not, with a book in her hands. Her eyes are lowered but I know she’s looking at me.

  My mind is racing with all that’s happened to me. It comes back in a rush of images and remembered strange sounds and smells. Everything’s changed. Absolutely everything is different in my world.

  After being carried out of the barn by the woman in uniform, I was put with a few other dogs into a van and taken on a terrifying journey. This was the first time for all of us that we were away from the confinement of the barn and every minute in the van terrified us. Some of the dogs pooped themselves in fear, others were sick and by the time we reached our destination the inside of the van smelt almost as bad as the barn where we’d spent our lives. The next few hours remain a foggy fuddle in my mind, memories of being handled by strange people, given fresh food and water and a bath; this was the first time in my life that I’d felt warm water on my skin, not a cold blast from a hose. Although it was frightening, it was oddly good being wet and warm, not cold and soggy.

  I remember spending a while, possibly a few days, I’m not sure as I had no way to judge time, in a small, warm kennel where there was a soft squashy bed. I sniffed it all over, taking in the queer smell of this curious object, and almost stepped into it to see what it would feel like to lie down and be enveloped in comfort; but in the end, I was too scared to dare and lay instead on the hard floor as that’s what I’m used to.

  It was quiet and warm in the kennel. Strange and unsettling. There was a clean water bowl, full to the brim with crystal clear water. But, I only risked taking the tiniest sip of its refreshing deliciousness, not trusting that it would be refilled if I emptied it. Years of knowing the misery of thirst means I take nothing for granted.

  She’s still watching me, while pretending to read her book, and I’m trying not to catch her eye, keeping my head low on this soft, warm bed.

  I spent those first befuddling days with another dog, a small apricot poodle. We didn’t know each other until we met in the shelter, but she’d come on the same journey with me out of the puppy farm. She was younger than me, and not as thin, nor as weak and worn out. But, like me, she was petrified of the strangeness surrounding us. We huddled together for comfort, hoping that whatever was going on it was better than where we’d come from. And it was, we sensed it was, but weren’t able to overcome our fears.

  The people around in those first days out of the puppy farm are in my head now as a jumble of odd figures and sounds. I was bombarded by oddness. Nothing was familiar and I can’t remember any single human as an individual, instead they’ve all merged into a memory of quiet, gentle kindness. They smelt good too, I do recall that: a new smell, the odour of love mingling with kindness. When they came to the kennel, they whispered, moving silently and slowly; they never grabbed us, or hurried to do anything. It was weird and I wrestled with the niceness on offer, as nastiness is all I’ve known. I resisted the confusing feelings of comfort that were creeping into me, bizarrely at times wanting to be back in my familiar concrete pen. But, in among the many mindboggling moments, an itsy-bitsy part of me wanted the kindness that was swooshing around to wash over my mind and body and make everything better. I didn’t want to resist it; I wanted to go to sleep, wake up and no longer feel frightened. But I couldn’t quite give in and let that happen.

  Then suddenly, out of the blue I was on another journey with the lady who is now sat over there, in the armchair by the fire. One day she came to the shelter with another lady, they seemed to be friends. Both quietly sat on the clean, grey tiled floor of the kennel, as me and Poodle huddled together in our bed. The two women didn’t do much, they chatted softly to each other, and at times to us, although I wasn’t at all sure what they were saying. The unusual soft tones of human voices were taking some getting used to, without the dreaded, but familiar violence of the Man attached.

  After a while, the ladies seemed to make a decision and that was it: Poodle went with the other one and I came here; so here I am, in a quiet house with a strange, kind lady called Val.

  14

  I’ve got a new friend, all right. But what a gamble friendship is!

  E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

  “Hey, hey sweetie,” Willow heard Patsy calling as if from another world. “Wakey wakey!”

  She opened her eyes and looked straight into Patsy’s blue ones. The dream was over, which was a shame as she’d been right in the middle of a rollicking chase game in the fantasy world of a new best friend, who also happened to be her sister. And the fantasy was about to become reality, or so she hoped.

  Willow got out of her bed, stretched her paws out in front of her as far as they would go, dropped her shoulders to the ground, lifted her grey bottom in the air and stretched for a few seconds; then stretched her back a bit more before pulling her weight up onto her shoulders and pushing her neck forwards to its farthest point, which had the elastic effect of lifting her back legs up onto the tips of her toes. Then she snapped herself back together with a vigorous shake, zippy enough to lift her, just for a second, off the bedroom carpet before landing back down and staring up at Patsy.

  “Better? Awake now?” Patsy smiled down at her from the bed where she was sat up, her red hair wild and messy against the pile of white pillows. “Remember what’s happening today?”

  Of course Willow remembered! It was the only thing she’d been thinking about since she’d found out about it yesterday. Well, that plus last night’s delicious chicken dinner. She was so excited she could burst, but shook herself again instead.

  “It’s exciting isn’t it?” Patsy said, patting the white duvet beside her to invite Willow up for their first cuddle of the morning. Willow leapt up and tucked herself tightly into Patsy’s warm embrace, thinking of the day ahead.
r />   She was going to meet her new sister, Maya. It had all been arranged with Val: they were to drive to her cottage where Maya was being fostered with Val and her other dogs. She’d been there for a few weeks, being cared for, and learning how to live in a home, which was an alien world for Maya. Willow didn’t know many details, but she understood that her sister had been saved from somewhere terrible; the puppy farm sounded like a different planet compared to the cosy home shared by Patsy and Willow. A place where there was always a choice of plush beds to settle into, one in each room of the house; whereas her sister had lived on nothing but sawdust and concrete. In one of their many telephone chats following her first visit to them, Val had warned Patsy that the damaged and scared dog who was going to be Willow’s sister, may not trust that her new bed with them was hers to lie in and relax upon; in fact, she might not even know how to relax at all for a good while.

  However hard Willow tried to bend her mind to this curious and disturbing thought, she couldn’t untangle the confusion it created in her: how could a dog see a comfy bed and not know she could just clamber in and enjoy it? How sad and mixed up poor Maya must be, not to know the simplest thing: that a snug bed equals a comfy nest. Her sister was scared of many things in her new world outside of the puppy farm, and she would need a lot of help to learn how to live happily. Willow also thought she’d need loads of sisterly love, which was fine, as she had oodles to offer; Willow was overflowing with it and she hadn’t even met Maya.