Authors: Joe Friedman
The Secret Dog
The Secret Dog
Born in Chicago, Joe Friedman has lived in London for many years, where he divides his time between writing and practising psychotherapy. He is author of the children’s series Boobela and Worm, and in his spare time loves to do improvisation and story-telling.
First published in 2015 by
Birlinn Limited
West Newington House
10 Newington Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1QS
Copyright © Joe Friedman
Illustrations copyright © Tim Archbold
The right of Joe Friedman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978 1 78027 287 0
eISBN: 978 0 85790 848 3
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Typeset by Iolaire Typesetting, Newtonmore
Printed and bound by Grafica Veneta
For Joe and Yvonne
who provided me with the perfect introduction to the Isle of Skye
Contents
Chapter 1
The sea eagle circled lazily far overhead. Its three-metre wingspan made it easily visible. Josh kept an eye on it, as his long legs carried him swiftly up the rough dirt path. He knew the predator’s eyes were sharper than his.
As usual, he’d headed straight for the commons after school. He had several hours to himself. Time to explore, and to try to find animals who were injured or ill. Josh loved to nurse them back to health. His uncle didn’t mind him bringing them home – as long as it was temporary. But he had an iron rule – no pets.
Suddenly, the eagle changed direction. Had it spotted an animal in trouble? Josh watched as the bird started to circle over an area to his left. He knew this didn’t
necessarily
mean it had seen potential prey – but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
The bird seemed to be concentrating its attention on a steep grass-covered gully that led down to one of the many rivers that crossed the commons. The gully was pitted with muddy holes and odd-shaped gashes where erosion had eaten away the land. Because the commons didn’t belong to anybody, nobody took much care of it.
Two thousand sheep called it home. Two thousand sheep, lots of small wild animals, and Josh.
Josh had been exploring the commons for five years, since he’d come to live on the island. He loved it all, every neglected bit of it.
The sea eagle had adjusted its flight path again. It was flying lower, and circling an area near the river below. If there
was
an animal to save, Josh hoped it wasn’t on the other side. He hadn’t changed out of his school uniform.
To his left there was a wire fence. He put his hand on a solid-looking fence-post and used it to vault over. Then he started down the steep slope, keeping an eye on the huge bird. It was circling still lower. Maybe it sensed Josh was a threat to its dinner.
As Josh got closer to the river, he looked from side to side, his eyes rapidly scanning the area for any signs of life. His long, dirty-blond hair flopped over his eyes. He hadn’t noticed any breaks in the fence
. . .
And surely he’d
see
a sheep in trouble. The sea eagle must be homing in on something smaller.
The river level wasn’t at its highest point – the winter snow from the top of the hills had already melted and passed through, but it was still flowing pretty rapidly. He hastened along the bank. The eagle was still circling.
What was it looking at?
Then Josh saw a slight movement, under a bush on the other side of the river where the bank was lowest. He couldn’t see what was making the bush move. But if it was just the wind, a sea eagle wouldn’t be so interested.
He glanced at his school shoes and trousers.
Why
did it have to be on the other side? But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sea eagle climb. Josh knew what that meant. It was getting ready to strike.
Without thinking, Josh charged into the river. The icy water made him catch his breath. It filled his shoes and soaked his trousers but he didn’t hesitate. He knew he only had seconds to save the sea eagle’s prey. His right foot slipped on one of the slick stones at the bottom of the river and he started to lose his balance. But he managed to plant his left on some gravel and kept going.
The sea eagle started to dive. Josh was out of time. He lunged forward. He tripped on the low bank but his momentum carried him into the bush. Thorns tore at his face. He was dimly aware of the sea eagle veering off, making a series of short, frustrated yaps. And then he saw what the bird was after.
It was a little bundle of soaking fur. A hedgehog? No. His eyes widened. It was a puppy! A black and white Border collie, shivering with cold.
‘Did you fall in the river?’ Josh wondered aloud. Then he understood: puppies this small didn’t stray far from their mothers, who didn’t go near rivers. He hadn’t fallen. Someone must have thrown the dog into the river to get rid of it.
‘I bet you were the runt of the litter,’ he spoke softly, knowing his voice would calm the dog. He imagined the puppy pulling himself onto the bank with a huge effort for something so tiny. Josh’s heart went out to him. ‘You’re a brave little soul,’ he said.
Gently, he put his hand underneath the dog. He gasped.
‘You’re like a bag of frozen peas! You must have been in the water for ages! I’ll have to get you warm. Right away.’ Then Josh realised the puppy wasn’t a “he”. It was a “she”!
Carefully, he crawled backwards out of the bush, trying to limit the damage to his face and clothing. Holding the puppy in both hands, he crossed the river. Once he was safely on the other side, he cradled her in one hand, lifted his sweater and started to undo the middle buttons of his shirt.
She nuzzled up against his chest. Her nose was icy! He’d saved many animals, but never one that was this far gone. Surely he couldn’t have found her too late!
His mind raced. If she was going to survive, he had to get her dry and then some warm food in her tummy. He glanced at his watch. His uncle, Calum, wouldn’t be home yet, surely. He’d be out doing something on their small farm.
That would give him a chance to hide the puppy, and to get his trousers in the washing machine and his shoes in the airing cupboard.
Still holding the sodden collie against his skin, Josh buttoned up his shirt as far as he could. He turned and, squelching with every step, raced towards home.
Chapter 2
Josh put the pup on the dark kitchen counter as he stripped off his trousers and threw them in the dryer. He’d already put his shoes in the airing cupboard. He wasn’t optimistic they’d be dry by the time he had to leave for school the next morning.
He put a pan of milk on the Aga to heat, then rushed to the bathroom where he found a towel and tied it around his waist. Then, back to the stove, where the milk was just starting to boil around the edges. He poured it into a mug. Holding it in one hand and the puppy in the other, he headed for the ladder to his room in the loft. At the bottom of the ladder, he hesitated. He’d have to climb without hands
. . .
Okay. He’d use the hand holding the mug to balance. As his head went through the opening into his room, a waft of warm air hit him. The loft baked in high summer and froze in the winter. In June, it could go either way. Normally, when it was this hot, the first thing he’d do was open the velux window. But today, hot was good. Hot was exactly what the vet ordered.
He laid the pup down on his blanket, and put the milk on the wooden crate that served as his bedside table. He untied the towel and started to touch-dry the puppy’s fur. Then he picked up the mug and put it up to the pup’s black nose. She turned away and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. ‘What’s this about?’ she seemed to be asking.
‘Let me show you,’ Josh said, a smile in his voice. He stuck his finger in the warm milk, and held it up to her mouth. After a moment, a tiny tongue came out and licked it. It felt lovely and rough against his skin. The puppy glanced at him again. Then her tongue started going in and out of the milk.
Josh didn’t let her have too much. He’d learned the hard way that small animals never know when to stop eating – he’d once let a starving rabbit eat too much and it had been violently sick all over his school uniform. As soon as he removed the mug, the puppy curled up into a ball the size of a small grape-fruit. In a moment she was fast asleep, exhausted by her ordeal. Tenderly, Josh wrapped her in his wool blanket.
He sat beside her, with his hand gently resting on her sleeping form. He had to think. Calum would be home in a few minutes. He needed a plan.
But here Josh ran into a brick wall. He already knew his uncle’s position on pets. They were for people with more money than sense. Crofters like them could only afford to keep working animals.
Josh felt the puppy stir under his hand. Maybe she was having a dream? He imagined her struggling to keep her head above the freezing water, desperately searching for a place where the bank was low, seizing her chance and scrambling up onto it
. . .
And then
he came by, just as the sea eagle spotted her. It was fate. He was
meant
to have her!