Читать книгу Claude’s Christmas Adventure: The must-read Christmas dog book of 2018! - Sophie Pembroke, Sophie Pembroke - Страница 15

There is a certain indignity to being led around on a cat lead, even if no one except you and the person holding the lead knows it is one. Still, Jack the Postman didn’t seem to mind the ridiculousness, so I decided I could probably bear it too.

It had to be better than wearing the hideous outfit that Holly had apparently bought for Perdita. I gave a satisfied huff. Nice to know that my nemesis cat would be facing some punishment after all.

Actually, meeting Holly had made me think that perhaps Perdita didn’t have it quite as free and easy as she suggested. The evil fluffy cat liked to lord it over me because she could go anywhere, do anything, and was answerable to no one. But it seemed to me like Holly was rather invested in her cat – and if Perdita put up with things like Christmas jumpers, and being taken out on a lead, then maybe she was more committed to her person than she liked to admit.

It didn’t make me like Perdita any more, but I was starting to believe that we were more alike than she’d been letting on.

Plus I got to eat her cat food. It wasn’t as good as mine, of course, but abandoned dogs had to take what they could get.

Abandoned.

What a horrible word. I knew what happened to abandoned dogs. Other dogs didn’t like to talk about it much but, sometimes, in the park or out for a walk, you’d hear whispers. A new dog would appear on the scene, looking haunted and nervous, for instance. And someone would overhear a human muttering about owners who didn’t deserve pets. Owners who beat their dogs, or starved them, or just left them somewhere, alone and scared. How this one had been lucky to find a new home. But they didn’t look lucky, not straight off. To start with, they just looked terrified that it would happen again.

Over time, if they were really one of the lucky ones, they’d start to lose that haunted, hunted look. But sometimes they’d just disappear, and we’d never know their experiences.

And sometimes, those dogs who lasted, would talk about what happened to them.

I didn’t like to listen to those stories.

And I really didn’t like to think that it might be happening to me, right now.

No. I shook my head, my ears catching the wind as I trotted along Maple Drive beside Jack. I wasn’t an abandoned dog. Daisy and Oliver hadn’t meant to leave me behind, I was sure of that.

I just didn’t understand why they hadn’t come back yet. Surely they must have realised I wasn’t with them by now?

‘Well, old boy,’ Jack said, and I stopped my fretting to listen. It’s easy enough to understand humans if you’re paying attention, but it’s like trying to understand a squirrel or a cat. Not quite the automatic sense that other dogs make.

Well, it wouldn’t be, would it? Everyone knows that dogs are the most intelligent of animals.

‘Let’s see if we can find someone who knows where your family are,’ Jack went on, but he didn’t sound like he had much hope. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Daisy or Oliver talking to any of our neighbours. I talked to Perdita more than they’d ever spoken to Holly, I knew that for a fact. Maple Drive just wasn’t that sort of place; I didn’t even know the names of some of the pets on the street. And besides, my family were always dashing here, there and everywhere, often dragging me along behind them. When would they have had time to tell anyone where they were going?

I must have looked despondent, because Jack rubbed my ears and said, ‘Cheer up, Claude. I’m sure they’ll be back soon, anyway. Definitely by the time I’ve finished my rounds, I reckon. They probably thought you were in the house when they left, right?’

I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but his words only left me more depressed. What if they weren’t planning on coming back at all? They were off on their ferry, France and chateau adventure, probably having all sorts of fun without me.

Maybe Daisy and Oliver hadn’t meant to leave me behind, but I was starting to worry that they hadn’t missed me since they left. And what did that say about my place in the family?

The McCawleys were my pack. But to them, I was only a pet.

In which case … I looked up at Jack, who was whistling a tune I recognised from Daisy’s Christmas CD. If I needed to find a new family, I could do a lot worse than Jack. He’d been kind so far, and he was helping me – even if he had put me on a lead. He and Holly had fed me, and they were trying to find my family for me.

Yes, Jack and Holly were good people. Perhaps I’d adopt them. After all, why should it always be the humans who got to choose their pets? I’d bet they’d love a handsome dog like me for Christmas. Suddenly, I felt a lot better about my day, and about Christmas as a whole. All I had to do was show Jack and Holly that they were my humans now. At least until Daisy and Oliver came home, anyway.

That shouldn’t be too hard. Right?