Читать книгу A Puppy Called Hugo - Fiona Harrison, Fiona Harrison - Страница 7

There is nothing I enjoy more than catching the odd forty winks during the daytime. I am more than happy to curl up in most places, but my favourite has to be the large sunny kitchen at the home in Perivale I share with my gorgeous owner, Gail. It’s there I have a lovely basket placed between the oven and the door so I’m never too hot or cold. And it’s there I can always enjoy an undisturbed nap safely out of anybody’s way, complete with the blanket Gail lovingly knitted for me when she first adopted me.

Now, I was in my very favourite spot enjoying a cosy few minutes of sleep when an ear-piercing crash, bang and wallop had me jumping out of my skin. Getting uneasily to my paws, I looked up at Gail’s twinkling blue eyes, heart pounding.

‘Was that what I think it was?’ I barked, trembling.

Gail shrugged, her long, straight chestnut hair skimming her shoulders as she did so. ‘Only one way to find out.’

Together we trooped out of the sunshine-filled kitchen and into the hallway where the slightly sickly sweet fragrance of dried flowers assaulted my senses. It didn’t take long to discover the cause of all the trouble. There, by the front door, was my beautiful but mischievous four-month-old son, Hugo, surrounded by what could only be described as chaos.

My owner let out a gasp of horror as we both took in the mess that stood before us. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Scatter cushions had been ripped to shreds, the stuffing from their innards covering the hessian carpet that lined the hallway. Elsewhere the vanilla and lime potpourri had been thrown across the doorway like confetti at a wedding, while large cream pillar candles had been chewed to nothing, wax deposited all over the wooden banisters and carpet. Quickly, footsteps raced towards us as Gail’s husband Simon, clutching their baby son Ben, and their teenage daughter Jenny appeared.

‘Is it Hugo again, Mum?’ Jenny piped up.

‘What’s he done this time?’ Simon sighed, his chocolaty eyes full of concern as he peered over Gail’s shoulder.

Gail turned to each of them, despair written across her face. ‘The house-warming presents, he’s destroyed Mum and Dad’s house-warming presents, they’re ruined.’

As Gail stood rooted to the floor in shock, Jenny rushed towards the box and frantically rifled through in a bid to salvage something.

‘You’re wasting your time, love,’ Simon called tightly. ‘Hugo’s done what he does best, ruined everything in sight.’

‘Don’t say that, Dad,’ Jenny replied, ever the optimist. ‘There has to be something here we can fix at least.’

But I knew Jenny’s efforts were pointless. Shaking my head, I walked gently towards my son who was now standing next to the box and looking proudly at his destruction. With his blond fur, black markings and dark eyes he was without doubt a real cutie, but every day he was always getting into trouble, and today, on this super special day that was important to the whole family, Hugo had managed to ruin it with his tiny paws all over again. ‘Look what I did, Dad,’ he yapped excitedly. ‘I never knew Gail had bought me so many toys.’

Fury rose, and I did my best to choke it down. ‘Those are not toys. They are gifts for Gail’s mum and dad. You were told that last night.’

‘Was I?’ Hugo asked, his brown eyes filled with innocence.

‘You know you were,’ I barked angrily. ‘I explained that today was a big day because Doreen and Eric were moving into their new house around the corner and that all of these things in the box were presents, ready to welcome them into their new home.’

‘But I thought you said they were toys for me,’ Hugo protested.

I opened my mouth ready to bark, when there was a knock at the door.

‘Oh Christ!’ Simon groaned, passing the baby to Gail so he could open the door. ‘That’s all we need.’

‘Simon,’ Gail hissed, as she cuddled the nine-month-old and kissed the fine blond hair that was springing up all over his head. ‘They’ll hear you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ called Jenny, who from her position next to the front door was peering through the little spyhole. ‘It’s only Sal and Peg.’

‘Well, don’t just stare at them,’ Gail said. ‘One of you let them in.’

Immediately, Jenny pulled the door open and smiled warmly at a small blonde woman with kindly blue eyes and a beautiful blonde pug standing on the doorstep.

‘Come in, guys!’ She beamed. ‘Welcome to chaos.’

As Sal stepped into the hallway she let out a low whistle as she took in the scene. As for me, I bounded over to my love, all thoughts of Hugo and his crimes temporarily forgotten.

‘I didn’t know you were coming over,’ I barked gently.

‘I suggested to Sal we lend Gail a paw,’ Peg yapped, greeting me with a lick to my ear. ‘Big day today, her mum and dad moving from Devon to London to help with the family.’

‘Since baby Ben and of course our Hugo arrived Gail’s been frazzled,’ I admitted. ‘I think she’ll be grateful for all the support her mum and dad can give now they’ll be closer.’

‘How things have changed since Gail adopted you from the tails of the forgotten all that time ago,’ Peg woofed with affection.

I realised that as always she was right, things had changed in the family, but it was all for the best. When Gail adopted me and brought me to the lovely semi-detached home she shared with Simon, little did I realise that their marriage was in jeopardy because they were both so worried about their daughter Jenny. The little girl was suffering from a life-threatening heart condition and needed regular hospital care but she pulled through, and now, Jenny is a very normal teenager with a perfect working heart.

‘I thought you might like a hand today, but I think you need a full-on clean-up operation instead,’ Sal exclaimed, interrupting my thoughts. ‘What on earth’s happened here?’

‘Good question, Sal,’ Peg barked, looking sharply at me and Hugo. ‘What has happened here?’

Gail sighed, as she pulled Sal into the kitchen. ‘Let me tell you while I make a coffee, I can’t even think about what that puppy’s been up to now. Honestly, Sal, it’s something new every day with Hugo, I never realised having a puppy would be such hard work.’

With that, the two women trooped into the kitchen, followed by Jenny and Simon leaving me and Peg with a very jolly-looking Hugo.

‘Mummy! Mummy! Look at all these toys Dad got me,’ he barked excitedly.

Peg eyed him beadily. ‘Don’t try that with me. I was here last night, remember, when your dad very clearly told you these things were gifts for Doreen and Eric.’

Hugo at least had the decency to look contrite as he gazed forlornly at the floor. ‘Sorry.’

But it wasn’t enough for Peg who deftly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. ‘Are you sorry? Or are you just sorry we’re cross. I don’t know how many times your dad and I have to tell you, Hugo, you must do as you’re told.’

‘I didn’t mean to cause so much damage,’ he barked quietly as Peg released him from her grip. ‘I just saw all the things and wanted to play with them.’

‘But those things didn’t belong to you, Hugo,’ I yapped, the thread of annoyance still burning bright. ‘Last week we had to have this bark when you ran off with Ben’s toys. They’re human toys not your toys and Ben was very upset when you snapped his rattle in half.’

I cast my mind back to the memory of the resounding snap when Hugo broke Ben’s clown rattle into tiny pieces. The look on the infant’s face had mirrored Gail’s one of shock just moments earlier and then the tears had streamed down his little face. My heart had gone out to him, particularly as my son looked delighted with himself when both Gail and Simon told him off.

Peg and I had barked our frustrations out at Hugo last week and he had assured us there would be no more mischief, but he had managed to behave for less than a week. Something told me he enjoyed the attention he received from getting into trouble but I knew this wasn’t the way to get through life, something I had tried to teach Hugo. For the minute, I felt defeated and I slumped to my paws, needing a minute to gather my thoughts.

Hugo was my son and I adored him but there were times he seriously tested not only my patience but the patience of my family. When Peg and I learnt she was expecting pups last year we were over the moon. We both felt it was the perfect way to seal our love, and discovering we were able to find our litter good homes nearby, we were delighted as it meant we got to see them all almost every day at the park. Our daughter Lily went to Sal’s next-door neighbour, while our two other sons Roscoe and Ralph were taken in by a couple around the corner, who worshipped them as we hoped they would. As for Hugo, well, he was the tiniest little pup in the entire world but as the runt of the litter both Peg and I knew he would have difficulty finding a good home.

Gail wasn’t deterred, however, and she placed an ad across all the local social media sites pleading for someone to offer him a good home. Consequently, we were inundated with people wanting to take a look at Hugo. Every time the familiar chime of the doorbell sounded, I, Hugo, Peg, Gail, Simon, Jenny and even baby Ben, held our breath as we each hoped this would be the moment Hugo would find his forever home. Yet as people shuffled into the living room and took one look at my precious boy lying in his sheepskin-filled basket they reluctantly shook their heads. They all wanted a cute little pug to trot around after them. What they didn’t want was a dog who was all paws and squished face as he grew into his body.

I tried not to take it personally, but as a father I felt so cross on Hugo’s behalf. To me, he was a beautiful bundle of joy and I knew that when he was older he would be just as perfect as his brothers and sisters.

Sadly, nobody seemed to share my view and I lost count of all the people who uttered polite thanks, but no thanks as Gail showed them the door. I couldn’t help worrying over the boy’s future. As dogs it was our purpose to serve our owners and shower them with love when we found our forever home, proving the bond between human and dog was the strongest one on earth. Thankfully, Gail had finally stepped in at the eleventh hour and said we could keep Hugo until he was bigger, and look for a home for him then.

She had done this for me even though space was tight with a new baby in the house, which had meant Simon had been forced to give up the spare room, otherwise known as his man cave that he had once treasured. I had been beyond grateful to Gail and had assured her repeatedly with plenty of loving barks that Hugo wouldn’t be a burden. However, during the four months he had been with us, much as I hated to admit it, burden was the one thing he had become. He got into trouble every single day and no matter how many times I begged him to behave, my barks fell on deaf ears.

Looking at him now, still glancing at the mess he had made with a look of sheer pride across his face it was hard not to feel a sense of failure. I had taken it upon myself to show him the ropes, teaching him how to behave in a domestic environment. After all, nobody would want Hugo if he didn’t mind his manners, something he didn’t seem to understand. I myself knew more than anyone what it was like to be abandoned, and spending day after day hoping to find your forever home. My previous owner, Javier, had left me in the local shelter or the tails of the forgotten as it’s better known amongst the dog community. Although I had been well cared for, it was by no means a substitute for a loving family and I didn’t want Hugo to suffer the same fate. I had spent days performing tricks for would-be adopters and putting a brave face on my little snout as families adopted all my friends but left me behind. I had been broken hearted, until I met Gail, which was why I had made it my new purpose in life to get Hugo to grow up so he would find his own happy-ever-after.

I felt at the end of my lead with him. I glanced at Peg hoping she would have some answers, but she looked as worn out as me with it all.

‘Come on,’ she barked eventually. ‘The least we can do for Gail is to clear this lot up. And, Hugo, you’re helping.’

‘OK, Mummy,’ he said, bounding into action.

Together we worked, quickly pushing the potpourri into a big pile in the corner, and picking up the larger portions of the cushions into the box.

Suddenly, Hugo stood stock-still in front of me fixing me with a wide-eyed gaze.

‘What is it?’ I barked in frustration.

‘I don’t feel well, Daddy,’ Hugo grumbled.

I exchanged knowing looks with Peg. Was this yet another drama created by my son to get out of cleaning up after himself.

Peg dropped the bit of cushion she was holding and glared at Hugo. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Very, very, very sick,’ Hugo replied, his little voice lacking the vim and vigour of earlier.

I looked at Hugo again. I had to admit my boy looked green and, judging by all the candle wax and potpourri he had devoured, it was hardly surprising. I shook my head, waves of despair crashing over me as I realised that not only had my son cost my owner some gorgeous house-warming gifts but she would also need to pay for a weekend visit to the vet.