The Victory Dogs

by Megan Rix

  ‘If only Sky could sniff something of Misty’s and find her like those sniffer dogs do,’ said Amy.

  ‘Ellie’s done scent training with Grace,’ said Michael. ‘She said dogs love it. Their noses are so super-sensitive I suppose it must seem like playing hide-and-seek to them.’

  ‘I can’t imagine trying to find someone just by sniffing,’ Amy said with a grin.

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘I like Ellie,’ said Amy, remembering the pretty, friendly girl she’d met the night before. She smiled as she remembered that Jack had liked her too.

  ‘Yeah, she’s OK,’ Michael agreed. ‘She’s off checking on a cat she rescued last night.’

  Michael threw the shoe-ball for Sky as they went past the duck lake. The model traffic area had been closed at the start of the war but people were still cycling on the bike paths.

  Amy saw several people she recognized from when she’d come to the park with Misty, but none of them had seen the dog.

  ‘I’ll keep a lookout,’ one woman with a bulldog promised.

  ‘Misty …’ Amy called again and again. ‘Misty …’ But there was no sign of her.

  Amy felt very low as they left the park. She’d been so hopeful that Misty might be there. What had happened to her? Had her pups been born yet and, if they had, were they all right? Were they …? No, she wouldn’t even let herself think that they might not be all right.

  From Lordship Rec they headed to the station and out towards Alexandra Palace. Sky trotted along happily on her lead and wagged her tail whenever Amy shook the biscuit tin.

  ‘If only there was something more I could do to help all the other dogs too,’ she said. ‘If I could just help even one to find its way home, it might make not finding Misty …’

  ‘Don’t talk like that!’ Michael said. ‘Misty’s only been lost for a day − you can’t even begin to give up hope of finding her yet. Even in peacetime it can be weeks before a lost pet gets reunited with its owner and this is definitely not peacetime.

  ‘At the start of the war my friends, Robert and Lucy, got evacuated down to Devon and their three pets stayed in London and do you know what happened?’

  Amy shook her head.

  ‘Months later his Jack Russell, Buster, turned up as a search-and-rescue demonstration dog and his cat, Tiger, and sheepdog, Rose, made it all the way from London to Devon, and I’m still not really sure how they did it.’

  By now Amy’s mouth was hanging open and she quickly closed it. ‘That’s amazing,’ she said.

  ‘If you really want to help, you should come along to one of the NARPAC meetings. Ellie usually does a dog-training class afterwards now that she’s trying to get the national War Dog Training School started.’

  ‘Really?’ Amy said. ‘I would like to help.’

  ‘Well, we can do with all the help we can get,’ said Michael with a grin.

  They went up the hill that Alexandra Palace stood on. From the top they had a panoramic view of London.

  ‘It’s still beautiful,’ said Amy as she looked out. So many people busily living their lives down below them.

  Michael looked at the flames and smoke that still came from some of the buildings. Hundreds of homes and factories and schools had been destroyed the night before and countless people killed. But being up here gave London an ethereal air, like some kind of magic land that they weren’t quite part of.

  Sky raced after a honey-coated spaniel and they barked as they played together. The two dogs ran under the fence that enclosed the horse racecourse track and Michael and Amy went after them.

  ‘One of my dad’s jobs was to check on the horses that raced here,’ Michael told Amy. ‘He calls it the Frying Pan because of its shape.’

  Amy looked up at the palace as they headed back down the hill. The transmitter tower stretched upwards. Her father had told her it was used to jam German bombing navigation systems. She hoped it had jammed them so badly they didn’t work any more so the German planes never came back.

  ‘Don’t give up; sunrise and sunset are supposed to be the best times for finding a missing dog,’ Michael told her. ‘Or at least that’s what my dad says. That’s when it’s most likely to return to its home.’

  ‘Thanks for today. I think I’d better get back home now,’ Amy said. ‘But I’d like to come along to the NARPAC meeting.’

  ‘Good,’ said Michael as he and Sky headed off towards his house. He only wished they’d been able to help Amy find Misty.

  Chapter 7

  Inside the Underground station the narrow ventilation access tunnel where Misty had given birth to the pups was in many ways the perfect ‘nest’. It was warm and dry, safe and relatively clean.

  Misty’s two pups didn’t make much noise apart from soft grunts and squeaks, and even these they couldn’t hear for themselves, nor see each other, as their eyes and ears weren’t open yet. Their sense of smell, however, was fully developed.

  Misty was a good mum and her puppies were healthy and well-fed with little round stomachs. They were everything to her and she made soft, lullaby-like growls deep in her throat to them.

  Sheba brought Misty rats that Misty ate hungrily, although she’d never eaten one before coming to the station. She’d never, in fact, eaten any raw food before the rats she was given, but now she did.

  Sheba also lay with the pups to help keep them warm when Misty headed off to the pig bins. As the puppies cuddled up together, their tiny limbs twitched and waved and their little pink tongues went in and out as they made milk sucking movements.

  But although Misty’s puppies were strong and healthy, Misty herself wasn’t. The pain from where the car had hit her had increased and, although she ate from the pig bins, she was losing weight rather than gaining it. At six she was old to have a first litter and giving birth to the puppies had taken its toll.

  About two weeks after he was born, the larger of the two pups’ eyes and ears opened and he saw their dark tunnel home and heard the whistle and rumble of the Underground trains for the first time. The next day his younger brother’s eyes and ears opened and they saw each other.

  The puppies were both tan-and-white coated, in comparison to Misty’s cream coat. The firstborn was slightly larger and had a white tip to his right ear, but otherwise they were almost perfect copies of each other. They both had newborn blue eyes which would gradually change to brown.

  Their legs weren’t strong enough for either of them to be able to stand yet. But they were able to crawl by paddling their front legs to drag themselves along. The firstborn pup found his voice and barked. Previously he’d only managed to grunt and mew. He heard the bark and liked the sound; he tried it again and again.

  The second puppy tried to bark too, but it came out as a yelp. He yelped again, but then the whistle of a Tube train passing made him throw his head back and turn that yelp into a howl. He was so surprised he paddle-crawled over to their mother who licked his furry head.

  Although the puppies could now hear the bombs going off in the distance every night and often during the day as well, they thought nothing of them and certainly weren’t frightened. It was all they’d ever known and so to them it was the way things should be.

  A few days of paddle-crawling strengthened their muscles. Now they were able to crawl properly and soon the brothers were crawling over each other and their mother. Misty made her soft, happy growl and licked them.

  In no time at all they were standing and taking their first wobbly steps. The older, larger puppy barked with excitement. The younger, smaller puppy yelped, apart from when a Tube train whistled: then he joined in with his high puppy howl.

  The puppies were inte
rested in everything about themselves, from their four paws, that they chewed and licked at, to their tails, which were particularly good entertainment when they ran in wobbly circles trying to catch them. They also tried to catch each other’s tails, which usually resulted in a yelp as a tail got nipped by emerging teeth.

  The station was their playground, and provided them with a range of tunnels and pipes to explore. Misty growled softly to warn them if ever they neared the forbidden ‘people’ territory. Sheba stayed close and kept watch over them too.

  Daniel often heard the pups yapping excitedly as they played, and he liked to watch them from the shadows.

  He named the pups Bark and Howl because of the different sounds they made. Sometimes he watched them for hours, hidden in the shadows or through a grill hole, but he never went close or tried to touch them. If he did, the cat with one ear hissed at him. She was always with them, taking care of the pups and watching over the little family. Misty had seen him watching them too and the soft growl she’d made deep in her throat gently told him to stay away.

  Because he stayed hidden and rarely saw her at the pig bins any more, Daniel didn’t know how sick Misty was. She was too ill now to eat much of anything. Her leg and back hadn’t healed after the car had hit her and she was in constant pain. Sometimes she could barely stand and she was so thin that her ribs stuck out.

  Sheba laid food close to her to try and tempt her to eat. Sometimes Misty would take a little, but more often the puppies, now they were old enough, would gobble it up.

  At night-time now, after she’d hunted and eaten, Sheba still chose to sleep close by Misty and her pups rather than with the other cats.

  Besides Sheba there were about twenty other cats, and even more rats, living in the station. Bark and Howl tried to play with them, but usually they just ran away. Some of the cats were frightened of the pups and fled at the sight of them; others turned to face them, looking menacing, and from these cats the puppies ran. But, as the cats got used to the pups being there, more often than not a cat would simply give them a look before stalking off.

  If needed, a warning sound from Sheba meant that none of the cats came too close or ever really threatened the puppies.

  The pigeons made much better playmates than the cats or the rats. Bark and Howl raced down one rarely used platform that the pigeons roosted in, barking their high puppy barks. The birds scattered before them and Bark and Howl sneezed with puppy delight.

  As they grew older, the puppies started to investigate the constantly changing pig-bin food. They were too small to get into the bins themselves, but Misty gathered what little strength she had left and, with their help and Sheba’s, she managed to tip one over. Once the bin was on its side, Bark couldn’t resist going right into it to see what he could find, sure that the tantalizing smell came from something buried somewhere inside.

  Howl waited anxiously by the bin, listening as his brother ate. At last, Bark came out with his brown fur covered in cold porridge. Howl danced about in delight to see him and licked off the porridge with his little pink tongue.

  A few days later Howl got covered in carrot curry and Bark returned the favour by licking him clean.

  Often Bark or Howl would emerge with potato peelings on their heads. But they didn’t get eaten with the same relish that the porridge and carrot curry had been.

  One such day Sheba watched from a ledge on the wall as the puppies ate. She never chose to join in with the pig-bin feast herself – she much preferred a juicy rat.

  Suddenly Sheba went deadly still at the sound of a low growl. The pups quickly looked round, but were too interested in eating to pay much attention to the noise. But Misty gave an instinctive whimper of fear and immediately moved to stand protectively in front of her pups and face what was coming.

  Misty then gave a low warning growl, just as a large wiry dog came towards them out of the shadows, teeth bared. She instantly recognized the slavering beast as the feral dog she’d seen on the night of Bark and Howl’s birth. Her neck hackles rose.

  The feral dog was not in the least intimidated by Misty. She and her pups were no match for him. He was about to lunge at them when a voice shouted: ‘Go on − be off with you!’

  Misty didn’t turn her head as she recognized the voice.

  ‘Shoo!’ Daniel shouted again, waving his arms this time. But the feral dog didn’t leave. It just turned its huge head and growled at the man.

  Daniel stared back into the beast’s eyes. He knew the dog could attack him, but he also knew Misty and her pups would have no chance of survival without his help.

  He pulled off the pig-bin lids and raised them like a shield as the dog turned towards him, its face twisted in a snarl. Daniel clashed the lids together, while slowly moving towards the dog, hoping to scare it away.

  Misty took the chance to crawl into one of the narrow tunnels with Bark and Howl and lead them away to safety. They’d avoid eating from the pig bins again until she was sure it was safe for them to do so.

  Daniel banged the lids together again and again at the dog. Each time it retreated a little further, until it finally turned and sloped off into the darkness.

  When he looked round to check on the mother and her pups, he was glad to see they’d gone. From the ledge above him he heard a miaow and saw the one-eared cat watching him.

  ‘Hello, puss,’ he said and stretched out his hand to her, although he knew she probably wouldn’t allow him to stroke her.

  But today Sheba pushed her head under Daniel’s hand and purred her approval of what he’d done to protect Misty and her pups.

  Hopefully the dog wouldn’t come back to the pig bins again. But Daniel couldn’t be sure about that. The beast was obviously hungry and the pig bins were full of food.

  Safely back in their den, Bark and Howl were shaking with fear and making little whimpering cries. Misty licked them over and over to reassure them and herself. Finally they calmed down and fell asleep, but their dreams were marked with twitching and cries. Misty lay close to her pups and watched over them, but didn’t sleep. She was now in constant pain and worried that the feral dog would return.

  Sheba came to join her and washed herself close by.

  Chapter 8

  Ellie and Grace had come to pick Amy up for the NARPAC training class.

  ‘Thank you for having me along. When Michael told me about the classes and the War Dog Training School, I thought it was such a good idea. It feels like I’ll be helping Jack too, somehow,’ Amy told Ellie.

  ‘I know, it’s a great cause and really important,’ said Ellie, smiling. ‘I’m hoping Lieutenant Colonel Richardson will think that too and set up the new national War Dog Training School soon so we can have trained dogs to help us win the war.’

  ‘Who’s Lieutenant Colonel Richardson?’ Amy asked.

  ‘The hero who set up the War Dog Training School in the last war,’ Ellie told her.

  Before Mrs Dolan would let them leave, she made sure Amy remembered where every overground and underground public shelter in the area was.

  ‘And be careful,’ she warned the girls.

  ‘We will,’ Ellie told her.

  ‘It feels like we’ll be helping Misty too, in a strange way. Poor Misty must be terrified, out there all alone,’ Amy said when they were on their way.

  No one had seen Misty since the night she’d gone missing.

  ‘Most dogs would be,’ agreed Ellie. ‘That’s why we need a proper War Dog School to train those that aren’t.’

  As they made their way to the Scout hut where Ellie ran the classes, she told Amy about how she used Grace to show people just what a properly trained d
og could do. Before the war began, Grace and Ellie had often won first place in competition obedience classes. Ever since she’d been a pup, all Grace had really wanted to do was be with Ellie. Wherever Ellie went, Grace was happiest if she was close behind. But she was also obedient and if Ellie told her to stay she would – reluctantly.

  Because of her knowledge of obedience training, Ellie ran the dog-training side of things for their local branch of NARPAC, which was how she knew the wardens, as well as giving people advice about their dogs.

  Ellie believed that dog training should be a pleasure for both the dog and its owner. She didn’t agree with those who thought stern discipline, a firm hand and a clip round the dog’s head when it got something wrong were what was needed. Brute force never got the best out of anyone. She wanted a dog that could think for itself and not be so frightened that it cowered away when anyone came near it.

  Amy had often walked past the corrugated-iron-roofed Scout hut, with the fleur-de-lis emblem over the door, but she’d never been inside before.

  As she, Ellie and Grace went through the swing doors, they were greeted by the sight of five dogs, of various breeds, and their owners. Michael, Mr Ward and Sky were already there. Sky and Grace greeted each other nose to nose, tails wagging.

  The class began with a reminder of the basics: sit, down, stay, wait, come and don’t touch. ‘Don’t touch’ was very important for a dog that was going to help in rescue work to learn. There would be lots of opportunities in bombed-out houses to eat all sorts of things and no one wanted their dog getting poorly from eating mouldy leftovers!

  Once they’d gone over the basics, it was time to play hide-and-seek and Amy had to find places to hide herself. The dogs, however, especially Grace, had played the game lots of times before and were always able to find her. They were supposed to bark and let their handler know when they found someone and Grace did. But, for most of the other dogs, finding Amy was so exciting that they forgot all about barking and jumped on her and licked her face instead.