The Victory Dogs

by Megan Rix

  ‘Well, I’ll be …’ said the warden.

  Michael took the kitten from Sky and gently checked it over. Apart from being covered in dust and its heart beating much too fast, the kitten seemed unharmed.

  In number 75 Ellie and Grace worked carefully and methodically, going from room to room. The ARP warden had told them the owner had a black cat called Night.

  ‘But he wasn’t sure if the cat was in the house or not when the bomb went off,’ she’d added.

  ‘Night, are you in here? Where are you, puss?’

  Ellie had a little chicken in her pocket to tempt the cat out, although realistically she knew from her training that terrified animals didn’t usually have much of an appetite.

  Grace mostly stayed close, but occasionally she wandered off to sniff at something.

  ‘Found something, Grace?’ Ellie asked.

  She was amazed at how calm the dog was. Ellie herself was frightened that one of the walls might collapse at any moment, or the ceiling might fall down on top of them, or that there’d be another bomb.

  ‘You can’t think about that now,’ she told herself firmly. She was there to do a job and she was going to do it. ‘Night, Night?’ she called.

  Grace stopped and barked at the foot of the stairs and Ellie peered up into the darkness, trying to see or hear what had alerted the dog. Her dipped torch didn’t give out much light, but she could see that part of the banisters had come away and some of the stairs looked very damaged indeed.

  ‘You think there’s something up there?’ said Ellie doubtfully.

  Grace barked again and Ellie sighed. It looked dangerous, but she’d better check.

  ‘Be careful,’ she told Grace as the dog padded up the stairs behind her.

  Grace stopped by the wardrobe in the main bedroom, looked up and barked again, then sat down, looked over at Ellie and whined.

  Ellie shone her torch, but she still couldn’t see Night, although she agreed with Grace that it was a good sort of hiding place for a cat. She had just climbed on the bed to have a better look behind some boxes when the light from her torch caught the reflection of a pair of green eyes, wide and alert in the darkness.

  ‘Hello, Night,’ Ellie said softly. ‘Hello, boy.’ She held out her hand to him, but Night was not in the mood to be soothed or stroked. He shrank away from Ellie’s outstretched arm.

  She held out a piece of chicken, hoping to tempt him, but with a yowl Night raked his paw at her, jumped down on to the bed and raced out of the room past Grace, who watched him go and then looked over at Ellie, her head cocked to one side.

  ‘No, that wasn’t supposed to happen!’ said Ellie.

  They went carefully down the stairs, but couldn’t see the cat. The ARP warden was outside.

  ‘Did you see the cat?’ Ellie asked her.

  ‘Yes − just ran past me − no chance of stopping it.’

  Ellie smiled. ‘Well, at least he wasn’t injured – judging by how fast he was going!’

  ‘I’ll let the owner know,’ the warden said. ‘But I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Night was waiting on the doorstep for his breakfast in the morning.’

  Ellie hoped so, but she decided to come back to check in the morning, just in case the cat had been too frightened to come home.

  They went to see how the others were getting on, Grace stepping carefully over the broken glass that was everywhere.

  ‘Sky found a kitten!’ Michael grinned as his father arrived at number 71 to help him. Mr Ward hadn’t found anything in number 73.

  ‘What a pretty pickle, what a pretty pickle,’ said a voice out of nowhere.

  They all looked round at number 71’s living room, and for the first time noticed the dust-covered stand in the corner.

  ‘Mummy’s little po-ppet.’

  Mr Ward carefully lifted the cover. The parrot was in a cage and squawked and hopped about, and then started to make growling sounds. He dropped the cover back down. The parrot would feel safer with it in place for the moment. Fortunately the bird didn’t seem to be too injured, judging by its talkativeness. But it was obviously traumatized by the night’s bombings.

  ‘Let’s be getting you home,’ Mr Ward said as he carried the birdcage out to the NARPAC ambulance. Inside the cage the parrot made clicking sounds in its throat.

  ‘Need any help?’ Ellie asked from the blown-out doorway. Grace and Sky sniffed and wagged their tails at each other.

  ‘No, I think we’re just about done here,’ said Mr Ward.

  The ARP warden stroked Grace and patted Sky’s head. ‘What good dogs you are,’ she told them.

  Sky was so pleased with herself her tail was almost wagging in circles. She jumped into the back of the ambulance and Michael climbed in behind her carrying the kitten.

  ‘Guess there’ll be no stopping you and Sky from coming with me on rescue missions from now on,’ said Mr Ward.

  ‘Nope,’ Michael agreed. The sight, smell and sounds of the bombed-out street had been terrible. But rescuing the kitten was something he’d never forget. He wanted to do it again.

  ‘Some of the animals might be horribly injured,’ Ellie warned him as she climbed in. But the next time she was needed she knew she’d be there too, even though at times it had felt like her lungs were bursting from all the smoke.

  ‘And some won’t even be alive,’ she said sadly.

  Grace put her head on Ellie’s knee and looked up at her.

  ‘I know,’ said Michael. But he felt the same way as Ellie: nothing would stop him from helping an animal in need.

  Ellie stroked Grace as they headed off. Her last-minute decision to bring her along had been a good one. Without her Night would have been trapped in the house.

  Michael cradled the kitten all the way home and it was asleep by the time they turned the corner of their street.

  Chapter 4

  Inside the Wards’ house Heggerty heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up outside, and almost before the engine had stopped she was off the sofa and out of the room, her tail wagging like a pendulum. She was waiting by the front door for them as Michael, his father, Ellie, Grace and Sky came in, dusty, dirty and smelling of smoke, to a cacophony of greetings from the other animals.

  Ellie’s red hair now looked grey from all the dust, her face had streaks of dirt down it and her hands were filthy.

  ‘Hello, old girl,’ Mr Ward said as he patted Heggerty with his free hand.

  Although he’d much prefer it if Michael stayed safe at home, he intended to take Sky with him on rescue missions from now on. She did seem to be suited to the work and not fazed by going into a bombed building. But he would never take Heggerty.

  Heggerty was almost fifteen and greying round her muzzle. Although she never turned down a walk or a play, she was not as absolutely desperate to go out as she had once been, especially first thing in the morning.

  Sky raced past Heggerty and ran in a circle round Mrs Ward’s feet before stopping in front of the visitors sitting on the sofa.

  ‘Hello,’ Michael said when he saw Amy and Jack. He wondered why Jack was wearing what looked like his dad’s suit of all things, but he didn’t want to be rude so he just smiled.

  Jack nodded to him and pulled at the tie that was half strangling him, as if he could read Michael’s thoughts. Jack’s face flushed red when he saw Ellie. She had the prettiest green eyes he’d ever seen. She caught him looking at her.

  ‘I must look a state,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘Not at all!’ Jack exclaimed and then flushed as red as a beetroot.

  Ellie went to wash her hands and face and Grace followed her. Sky took the opportunity t
o jump up into Amy’s lap and lick her chin. Amy laughed and stroked her.

  ‘Get down, Sky,’ Mr Ward told her as he brought in the parrot, but Sky didn’t listen to him.

  Heggerty carefully climbed back on to the sofa in between Jack and Amy and put her head on Jack’s leg.

  ‘This is Jack and Amy. They’re here about their missing dog,’ Mrs Ward said.

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Ward. ‘I’ll be with you in just a minute.’ He went to get a NARPAC form to write down their details.

  From inside his coat Michael lifted out the kitten he’d found, and Mrs Ward took it from him and wrapped it in a towel as Sky jumped off the sofa, bounded over and licked at the small mewling creature.

  ‘Without Sky I wouldn’t even have known it was there, Mum,’ Michael said as he gave Sky a stroke. ‘Do you think she knows she’s just saved that kitten’s life, or do you think Sky thinks she’s playing a giant game of hide-and-seek?’

  ‘Whatever Sky thinks, it worked,’ said Mr Ward, coming back in with the form.

  He’d be sure to tell the other NARPAC volunteers what a difference taking along Sky and Grace had made. It should also strengthen the case for a national War Dog Training School, like there’d been in the Great War, to be started up again.

  Ellie’s dad had been badly injured in the Great War in the trenches of Picardy. He wouldn’t tell his daughter much about the war because the memories were too distressing. But he had told her about the amazing things that highly trained dogs could do to help with the war effort. One of them had brought the first-aid equipment that had saved Ellie’s dad’s life. Ellie was determined to see a national War Dog Training School set up, and examples of what even pet dogs like Grace and Sky had done tonight would only strengthen the case.

  ‘There, there, you’re all right, you’re safe now,’ Mrs Ward told the trembling kitten.

  ‘And look what I got for my trouble,’ Mr Ward added as he pulled the cover off the parrot’s cage.

  ‘Who’s a pretty boy then, who’s a pretty boy,’ the parrot chirped.

  It wasn’t covered in dust like the kitten had been, thanks to the cover over its cage, but it had no water and no food.

  Mr Ward opened the cage door to refill its water bowl and the parrot nipped at his finger.

  ‘Ouch!’ he said as he put his bleeding forefinger in his mouth. ‘That’s gratitude for you.’

  ‘Mummy’s little po-ppet,’ the parrot chirped, making Michael, Amy and Jack laugh.

  ‘That parrot’s got attitude,’ said Michael, minding his fingers as he pushed a slice of apple through the bars of the cage. ‘Here you go − thirst-quenching and tasty at the same time.’

  Mr Ward turned back to Jack and Amy, and wrote Misty’s name on the top of the NARPAC form.

  ‘Now when did she go missing?’ he asked.

  ‘When the air-raid siren went off,’ said Amy. ‘Misty must have been terrified.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ agreed Michael. ‘I was terrified and I knew what was happening.’

  Amy nodded. ‘We’re really worried because she’s pregnant and Jack’s going away to war tomorrow.’

  ‘The army?’ Mrs Ward said, looking over at the boy in the suit that was too big for him. He seemed much too young to be joining up, hardly older than her Michael.

  Jack’s face flushed red as Ellie and Grace came back in. He nodded.

  Mrs Ward gave the kitten in the towel to Amy to look after and went to the kitchen to prepare some food for them all. She was angry as she chopped up a carrot and an apple for the parrot, cut a little fish for the kitten and slapped dripping on the bread for sandwiches. Boys like Jack being sent off to war − it just wasn’t right!

  ‘And has Misty ever run off before?’ Mr Ward asked Jack and Amy.

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Never,’ confirmed Amy as the kitten peeped out from the towel at her.

  ‘She’s not that sort of dog,’ added Jack.

  Mrs Ward came back in with the carrot, apple, fish and sandwiches.

  Jack and Amy looked at the sandwiches hungrily, but didn’t take one until Mrs Ward said, ‘Go on, help yourselves. I made them for you too.’

  Michael saw the parrot eating the carrot and apple and smiled to himself. There didn’t seem to be too much wrong with the bird.

  ‘Misty’s puppies will be all right, won’t they?’ asked Amy.

  Ellie, who’d already felt pity for the frightened runaway, was now really concerned.

  ‘She’s wearing her collar and ID tag, isn’t she?’ Michael asked Jack and Amy.

  Amy nodded. ‘Yes, Mum registered her. So Misty’s wearing the collar and ID tag with the number on it that she was given.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mr Ward. At least that was something. Before the war a national register had been set up and registered animals were issued with a NARPAC numbered disc attached to a collar as identification.

  ‘If you had a photo with her in it, it might help to jog people’s memories when we look for her,’ said Michael. ‘But I don’t expect …’

  ‘We do!’ Amy interrupted him. Like most people the Dolans didn’t have many photos, but they did have one of Misty.

  ‘Good,’ said Mr Ward. Sky dropped one of her balls on top of the form in his lap and he threw it across the room for her to chase after.

  ‘I hope we find her before she has her pups,’ Amy said.

  ‘Misty being pregnant makes it even more critical that we find her as quickly as possible,’ said Mr Ward.

  ‘Poor Misty, all alone,’ Amy said, wiping away a tear. ‘Will she be all right?’

  Ellie and Michael exchanged a look.

  ‘There’s no time to lose,’ said Mr Ward. ‘She could need urgent medical attention if those pups decide to come along. But don’t worry, she can’t have got far – lost dogs tend to move in a triangle, so often don’t end up that far from home.’

  Amy bit her bottom lip hard to stop more tears from coming.

  ‘I’ll head out and search the area now,’ Mr Ward said, picking up a sandwich to take with him.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Me too,’ said Michael.

  ‘You two head back home now and see if Misty’s returned,’ Mr Ward told Amy and Jack. ‘Let us know straight away if she has so we can call off the search.’

  ‘We will,’ Amy said as they hurried out of the door.

  ‘Try rattling her box of biscuits as you call her name,’ Michael called after them.

  Jack and Amy ran all the way home, hoping against hope that Misty would be there, tail wagging, waiting for them.

  ‘Is Misty back?’ Jack asked as soon as he and Amy burst through the front door.

  Mrs Dolan shook her head. ‘Sorry, son, we’ve been out and asked all the neighbours, but there’s been no sight or sound of her.’

  Jack reached for Misty’s biscuit tin, determined to go out and look for her again.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Amy said.

  ‘No!’ said Mrs Dolan. ‘It’s too dangerous. I …’

  Her words were interrupted by the wail of an air-raid siren.

  ‘Not again!’ she cried as they ran for the Anderson shelter. They hadn’t even cleared up properly from the last raid yet.

  Amy sat, wide awake, inside the cold, damp shelter, holding Misty’s tin of biscuits and listening to the foreboding hum of the planes, the shriek of the bombs as they fell, then the explosive crash as they landed.

  This raid was even longer than the first and seemed to go on and on well into the night through to the early hours of the morning. Finally the all-clear siren sounded. Amy felt sick wit
h tiredness and desperation as they went back to the house.

  Misty must be almost crazed with terror out on the streets by now. How would she survive?

  Chapter 5

  Sheba the one-eared grey and black tabby cat had been born in the barn of a farm down in Kent almost eight years ago. Her first memories were of chasing mice and rats with her brothers and sisters, and the smell of hay and chickens and softly lowing cattle. But then, still a kitten, she’d been chosen and taken away from her mother and brothers and sisters to live an urban cat life in London with Mrs Collins.

  From then on she’d had to live mainly indoors. When she did catch a mouse or a rat, and once or twice even a bird, the reaction from Mrs Collins had been one of horror rather than the pleasure Sheba had expected.

  Mrs Collins had put a bell on the hated collar Sheba was forced to wear round her neck.

  When the war came, Mrs Collins went away. Sheba waited all day and night on the window sill, but no one let her in, or gave her any food or water. Sheba hadn’t minded this one little bit. She’d managed perfectly well once she was alone and hunting for herself. Wood Green Station had become her new home and provided her with more than enough rats to eat. She’d lived in the Underground for longer than most of those that came to join her. It was so long ago now that she could barely remember the feeling of human hands stroking her.

  Sheba wasn’t in the least frightened when she came face to face with Misty in the dark ventilation tunnel. Very little frightened Sheba − and certainly not an injured, pregnant dog.

  But, as Misty slowly crawled towards the cat’s bright eyes ahead of her, little whimpers and cries of pain came from the dog. Sheba made a soft soothing sound that her mother had once made, a sound that told Misty she had nothing to fear.

  But the pain that throbbed inside Misty was now almost too much for her to bear.

  Sheba had seen other cats giving birth before and a dog wasn’t so different. She stayed close to Misty during the hour or so it took for first one and then a second pup to be born. Her presence calmed the new mother. Both pups were boys and, although Misty was cream–coated, her puppies were white with tan patches.