The Hero Pup Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  MEGAN RIX is the recent winner of the Stockton and Shrewsbury Children’s Book Awards, and has been shortlisted for numerous other children’s book awards. She lives with her husband by a river in England. When she’s not writing she can be found walking her two golden retrievers, Traffy and Bella, who are often in the river.

  Books by Megan Rix

  THE BOMBER DOG

  THE GREAT ESCAPE

  THE HERO PUP

  A SOLDIER’S FRIEND

  THE VICTORY DOGS

  www.meganrix.com

  A tribute to all Helpful Dogs and their human friends …

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Praise for Megan Rix

  ‘If you love Michael Morpurgo, you’ll enjoy this’ Sunday Express

  ‘A moving tale told with warmth, kindliness and lashings of good sense that lovers of Dick King-Smith will especially appreciate’ The Times

  ‘Every now and then a writer comes along with a unique way of storytelling. Meet Megan Rix … her novels are deeply moving and will strike a chord with animal lovers’ LoveReading

  ‘A perfect story for animal lovers and lovers of adventure stories’ Travelling Book Company

  Praise from Megan’s young readers

  ‘I never liked reading until one day I was in Waterstones and I picked up some books. One was … called The Bomber Dog. I loved it so much I couldn’t put it down’ Luke, 8

  ‘I found this book amazing’ Nayah, 11

  ‘EPIC BOOK!!!’ Jessica, 13

  ‘One of my favourite books’ Chloe, Year 8

  Chapter 1

  Marnie, a five-year-old yellow Labrador, stood at the front door and gave a single bark. When no one came, she sat down and waited for a few seconds, then awkwardly stood up again and waddled down the hallway. She went into the kitchen, past the small table, over to the glass back door that led out to the garden, whined and looked behind her.

  Grey-haired Mrs Hodges was seated at the kitchen table. She heard Marnie’s whine, but didn’t look up from reading the local newspaper while dunking a digestive biscuit into her mug of tea. ‘Helper Dogs’ she read at the top of the article that had a large photograph of some dogs below it. Mrs Hodges smiled. She was very fond of Helper Dogs – the charity that trained dogs to help people with special needs. Her friend Lenny ran the local centre not far away. They were looking for more volunteer puppy raisers and suitable puppies to be donated to the charity.

  Marnie whined again and then gave a short, sharp bark. Mrs Hodges finally looked up and found herself being stared at by her dog’s soft brown eyes.

  Mrs Hodges knew full well what that stare meant.

  ‘You wouldn’t think a dog in your condition would still want to be heading out for walks. Those puppies are going to come along very soon,’ she said as she put the newspaper down and stood up.

  Marnie stepped from one front paw to the other to ease the weight in her belly, her claws making tapping sounds on the wooden floor.

  ‘Just a small one then.’

  Marnie’s thick tail wagged as she followed Mrs Hodges to the front door and waited for her to take down the lead from the hook she kept it on. Being pregnant didn’t stop Marnie from wanting to go for a walk, but it did mean the walks had to be much shorter – and no free runs or trips in the car.

  ‘Come on then,’ Mrs Hodges said as she opened the front door.

  Outside, the sun was shining. It was a bright summer’s day with a clear blue sky. Marnie hurried out as fast as she could waddle. ‘Slowly now,’ Mrs Hodges warned her.

  The old lady kept a careful eye on Marnie during their gentle walk round the block. She’d been through it all before and knew that Marnie’s instinct was to find a place to give birth outdoors. Mrs Hodges’ instinct, however, was to help choose Marnie’s birthing spot for her – indoors, where she could keep a close eye on things.

  But Marnie was surprisingly quick for a heavily pregnant dog.

  ‘Come out of there!’ Mrs Hodges cried as Marnie dived under a promising-looking hedge. She’d only just managed to coax the Labrador back out when a long black car drove slowly past them. They both turned to watch the hearse pass. In the back, resting on the coffin, was a wreath of white and purple flowers that spelt the word DAD.

  ‘Oh dear,’ muttered Mrs Hodges, bowing her head and giving Marnie a pat.

  Behind the hearse was a black limousine. As it passed them by, Mrs Hodges caught a glimpse of a sandy-haired boy in the back seat, staring determinedly straight ahead. Marnie barked and for a brief second the boy looked over at them.

  ‘Poor love,’ Mrs Hodges said as she and Marnie continued on their walk.

  After the funeral was over everyone – or it seemed like everyone – came back to eleven-year-old Joe Scott’s house. Not that Joe wanted them there, but that’s what his mum said people did.

  He went into his room to get away from them, but people kept knocking on his door and poking their heads round it to ask if he was OK.

  Of course I’m not, he wanted to scream at them. Why would I be OK? He’d never be OK.

  There was a large cupboard with a lattice door on one side of his bedroom. Joe picked up his phone, opened the door, stepped inside the cupboard, closed the door behind him and sat down on the floor among his shoes.

  Then someone else knocked on his bedroom door and walked in. ‘Joe?’

  Joe didn’t reply and soon he heard the footsteps retreating.

  Without thinking, Joe studied his phone. He had lots of photos of Dad on it and he scrolled slowly through them. He didn’t like looking at the ones of Dad in his army uniform the last time they’d said goodbye. He scrolled back to the ones of them together from before: Christmas last year, way before Dad told him that he’d be going away; him and his dad both wearing Cat in the Hat hats.

  Christmas. Joe’s stomach flipped over. He didn’t want to have a Christmas without Dad.

  Joe’s favourite photo was of him and his dad laughing together on holiday at the beach in July, just over a year ago.

  He carried on looking at the photos until finally the house became quiet.

  Then suddenly the cupboard door opened and Joe jerked his head up. His mum stood there. She’d kicked off the high-heeled black shoes she’d worn for the funeral.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ Joe said.

  ‘I know it isn’t.’

  ‘Why did it have to be him?’

  His mum had no answer. There was no answer. She held her hand out to pull Joe up, but he didn’t take it immediately.

  ‘I don’t want to go back.’

  ‘Back where?’

  ‘To school after the holidays.’ His voice caught in his throat. ‘The other kids will ask me about Dad.’

  He didn’t want to talk about the funeral with anyone, and especially not with nosy-parker people. He loved his dad too much for that, and the ache he felt every time he thought about how much he missed him had left a hole so big it felt like he could c
rawl inside it and stay there forever.

  ‘Come on, let’s have some food,’ his mum said, offering her hand again.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ he told her as she pulled him up.

  ‘Then help me clear it all away.’

  Mrs Hodges filled Marnie’s bowl with the special food for dogs who are expecting puppies, but Marnie wouldn’t touch it. She hadn’t been interested in food all day, which wasn’t at all like the usual Marnie.

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s to be expected. Shouldn’t think it will be long now,’ Mrs Hodges told the Labrador as she softly stroked Marnie’s bulging belly. The old lady had taken to feeding the dog near the nesting box where she tried to get Marnie to sleep too. Much better for the puppies to be born there than under some bush that took Marnie’s fancy.

  Marnie liked the stroking and she fell asleep in the special box Mrs Hodges had made for her, snoring loudly. The snoring, loud as it was, was oddly soothing. Mrs Hodges hadn’t slept properly over the last few nights. She’d had one ear open for any sound that might mean Marnie was about to give birth. Now she carried on stroking the snoring dog until they’d both nodded off.

  Marnie hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour when her eyes opened and she gave a yelp.

  Mrs Hodges woke up too and rubbed her eyes. ‘Goodness! Is it time?’ she asked. Then she looked properly at Marnie and smiled as the first of the puppies was born. Five more followed over the next few hours.

  ‘What a clever girl you are, Marnie. Six puppies!’ Mrs Hodges said as she checked each of the newborns.

  There were four boys and two girls, and all of the pups were completely yellow except for one of the boys who had a patch of black on his right ear.

  ‘There’ll be no mistaking you, will there, little Patch,’ Mrs Hodges said as she cleaned the black-eared puppy with a soft towel. Patch made a high mewling sound, almost as if he’d heard her. But he hadn’t. Newborn puppies are all blind and deaf, but have a strong sense of smell. Patch’s tiny pink nose pressed against Mrs Hodges’s thumb and she put him with his mum so he could feed.

  Mrs Hodges had given all the other puppies a dot on the top of the head, using different coloured marker pens to identify them. The puppy born straight after Patch was the last of the litter and smaller than the others.

  ‘You’ll soon catch up with the rest of them, Little Blue,’ Mrs Hodges told her as she marked the top of the puppy’s head with a blue dot.

  Once she was sure that there were no more puppies to come, Mrs Hodges picked up the little dog with the black ear and smiled as he made the mewling sound again and tried to suck her finger. She’d heard of these sorts of markings occurring in pure-bred Labradors before – mosaic puppies they were called – but she’d never seen it for herself.

  ‘Well, you’ll never win a dog show with that ear, Patch,’ she told the puppy. ‘I’m not even sure I’ll be able to sell you. But I know somewhere that’ll take you with open arms, somewhere that you’ll become the most precious puppy in the world. I’ll give my friend Lenny a call just as soon as I get a chance and see what he has to say.’

  She put Patch back in the nesting box and he snuggled up to his mum with his brothers and sisters.

  Chapter 2

  Joe was sitting in the sunshine on a bit of broken brick wall at the end of the garden. Inside the house, up in her office with the window open, he could hear his mum talking on the phone to someone, but not the actual words she was saying.

  ‘Why aren’t you at school?’ a gruff voice suddenly asked, making Joe jump.

  It was their next-door neighbour, grumpy Mr Humphreys, pretending to be trimming the hedge by the wall but really spying on them. He was always at home because he was retired and he always seemed to be criticizing Joe or making not very funny jokes. ‘You don’t look sick. Should I call the truant officer?’

  It was three weeks since the funeral.

  ‘Summer holidays …’ Joe mumbled.

  ‘What’s that you’re saying? Speak up, young man!’ barked Mr Humphreys.

  ‘It’s the summer –’ Joe started to say again, when his mum called out from the back door.

  ‘Joe! Joe, come quickly!’

  Mr Humphreys watched as Joe sighed and walked slowly back inside with his head down. ‘Sad-looking lad,’ he muttered, then went back to his hedge-chopping.

  ‘What is it?’ Joe asked his mum as he came in from the garden.

  ‘Remember how you always wanted a dog?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Yes. But …’ Last Christmas Dad had said this might be the year they got one. Only then he’d got the news about going away on tour with his regiment and getting a dog had been forgotten. His mum couldn’t be getting them a dog, could she? Joe didn’t know what to think about that. Having a dog had always been something he and Dad had talked about.

  ‘But I thought you and Dad decided it would be too much work with Dad away, and now …’ Joe trailed off.

  ‘Well there might be a way,’ she said.

  ‘What – how?’

  ‘Come on, we’re going out,’ Mum announced suddenly.

  ‘Mum, I’m not sure …’ Joe had hardly been out at all in the few weeks since the funeral. He didn’t want to see anyone and he certainly didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  ‘Hurry up. We don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Late for what?’ Joe asked, following her as she almost ran out of the front door.

  ‘Our meeting at Helper Dogs.’

  ‘What meeting? What’s Helper Dogs?’

  ‘The meeting I’ve just arranged. Hurry, because I can’t leave the office for too long.’

  Joe’s mum worked for a telecommunications company from home. She used the back bedroom as her office, which had all been set up by the company. The firm had given her a computer to work on and also a separate phone for her work calls. She answered customers’ queries and set up new accounts. Mostly she worked office hours, but she could log out for an hour or so, provided she let her manager know.

  ‘The best bit about working from home is I can work in my pyjamas if I feel like it,’ she told people. But Joe had never seen her wearing her pyjamas all day – not once.

  ‘What’s Helper Dogs?’ Joe asked again as they got in the car.

  ‘It’s only five minutes away. You’ll soon see,’ she said mysteriously.

  After what felt like much longer to Joe, his mum eventually slowed the car down and turned into a long driveway with what looked like a small aircraft hangar at the end of it. She pulled into the car park and was out of the car in no time. Joe followed more slowly. He was still not quite sure exactly what was going on.

  ‘Hello!’ Joe’s mum called, breezing into the hangar as if she went there every day.

  A golden retriever with a wagging tail came over to greet them. The dog was followed by a bald-headed man in jeans and a polo shirt that said HELPER DOGS on it.

  ‘Mary, hello, great to see you – and you must be Joe, right?’ he said.

  Joe looked at his feet. Why had Mum brought him here? He didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not new people.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mum for him. ‘This is Joe.’

  ‘I’m Lenny; pleased to meet you,’ said the man. Joe continued to stare at his feet, but jumped suddenly as he felt something cold and a little bit wet touch his hand. He looked down to find the golden retriever giving his hand a lick.

  Lenny laughed. ‘That’s Ollie. Don’t mind him, he’s just saying hello. Did the same thing to your dad when he came to see me.’

  Joe finally looked up at the man. His dad had come here.

  ‘Ollie’s one of the first Helper Dogs I trained and I can’t tell you how pleased I was to have him back once he retired,’ Lenny explained.

  ‘What’s a Helper Dog?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Exactly what it sounds like – a dog that helps,’ Lenny told him. ‘Do you want to see some of the helpful things Ollie can do?’

  Joe looked at Mum, who nodded.
>
  ‘OK,’ said Joe.

  ‘Lights, Ollie,’ Lenny said, pointing to a long cord hanging from the ceiling by the wall.

  Ollie trotted over and pulled the cord and the lights came on.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Joe’s mum.

  ‘He can also press an ordinary light switch on the wall with his paw to turn the lights on. But I don’t get him to do that so often now he’s older because it’s harder on his hips.’

  Ollie went over and nudged Lenny’s pocket and Lenny rolled his eyes, pulled out a treat and gave it to him.

  ‘Now I’m using him as a demonstration dog he wants a treat for every little thing he does,’ Lenny laughed. ‘Sometimes I give him a treat, but sometimes I just give him a bit of his food.’

  Ollie swallowed down the treat and looked up hopefully for more.

  ‘Could you call this number on your phone?’ Lenny said, and he gave Joe’s mum a piece of paper. She rang the number and a phone started ringing. Lenny looked round. ‘Where is it?’ he asked Ollie, holding his hands up to show he didn’t know where the phone could be. ‘Find it.’

  Ollie trotted over to the table and then disappeared underneath it, grabbed the phone in his mouth and came trotting back to Lenny with it, his tail wagging.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lenny said to Ollie when the dog reached him. He took the phone from him. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ Joe’s mum replied into her phone.

  Joe found himself smiling.

  Ollie looked up at Lenny for his treat and Lenny obliged.

  Then Lenny said, ‘Grab a chair,’ to Joe and his mum, and he sat down himself. ‘Now, imagine I’m in a wheelchair or don’t have much mobility – that’s to say, I can’t move very easily and reaching my shoes to take them off can be really awkward, and for some people just about impossible. Give it a try – without moving your legs.’

  Joe bent over and tried to reach his shoes without moving his legs at all, remembering he was pretending to be in a wheelchair and didn’t want to fall out. It wasn’t easy.

  ‘Shoes, Ollie,’ Lenny said, pointing at his feet. Lenny was wearing trainers with Velcro straps and Ollie pulled back the Velcro. ‘He can also pull the laces undone if they’re tied in a single bow.’