The Puppy That Came for Christmas Read online

  I was looking forward to walks with Traffy by the river in the early morning as the days got lighter, watching the mist lift and the kingfishers dart along the banks. And to holidays at the seaside, to splashing about in the surf; and looking forward to the mountains where the whole family could play in the snow. Not just this year but next year, and for years and years to come. Traffy wasn’t going anywhere, neither were Ian and I. It made me so happy.

  When we arrived back, Ian was home from work for the afternoon and was equipped with some very good news.

  “Sit down, love,” he said. “Remember the charity submission I did at work? Well, the lady running the scheme rang me on the internal phones a while back, saying that usually they gave out far higher sums than the hundred pounds we’d put down. So I . . . I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I added a few noughts on . . . and we got it!”

  My legs felt wobbly even though I was on the sofa. Even Traffy looked surprised.

  “How much?” I asked, barely able to contain myself. “How much did they give?”

  “Ten thousand pounds!”

  I almost fainted and grabbed at the phone to tell Jamie. His normally level voice broke and wavered with excitement—as close as he ever would get to fainting, I thought—and he put in a call straightaway to HQ. They said that £10,000 would be sufficient to take a puppy from birth right through to graduation . . . and would Ian do them the honor of naming it?

  “What letter are you on now?” he asked over the speakerphone.

  “M,” came the reply.

  “Mmmm . . . Minnie,” said Ian, finally, after a lot of “Mmmmmming.”

  We said a fond goodbye, after giving Helper Dogs the scheme’s contact details and extracting a promise of regular e-mail updates and an invite to as-yet-unborn Minnie’s graduation. I sank back into the armchair, stunned and yet glad that Ian and I had been able to give something back to Helper Dogs. When we’d been saying goodbye to Emma and Freddy, it had felt as if the organization had only been taking away from us, cruelly snatching the most precious thing in our lives, but now I realized that they’d given so much more. They’d given us two little dogs to love and care for, and through them a whole network of friends, trainers, puppy parents and disabled doggy partners who’d become almost like family. Most of all, without Helper Dogs, we wouldn’t have ever met Traffy, who’d made our home complete. I glanced down at her, chewing on her rattlesnake in the doorway to the kitchen, then looked over at Ian, who looked as dazed as I felt, and smiled.

  “Right,” I said. “I think I’d like a glass of wine after all that.”

  “Let’s toast the day,” agreed Ian.

  I lifted myself out of the chair and was walking toward the kitchen when the phone rang.

  “Oh, hi there, Meg, it’s Sarah from Baby Makers,” said the voice at the other end of the line.

  Baby Makers was the charity that had given me support and advice when I was having difficulty becoming pregnant, and who’d conducted the expensive hair analysis about which Ian had been so dubious. Looking back, I reflected, I wasn’t surprised the hair analysis hadn’t helped. But that was all over a year ago now and so much had changed since.

  “I was just wondering if you eventually had a little one?” Sarah asked.

  I told her that we’d decided not to go down the private fertility route as our chances of conceiving were so slim, and that we’d looked into fostering and adoption and decided that wasn’t for us.

  “So now we’ve had three little ones. Puppies,” I said. “Three in one year—and the last one’s still with us. She came just before Christmas and is staying forever.”

  “Do you know my own dog’s ears pricked up when you started talking about puppies,” said Sarah. “Now he’s brought his ball over.”

  I laughed. “Any opportunity for a play!”

  “You sound very happy,” she said.

  “I am,” I replied. “I have my baby. My very own creamy-colored, furry baby. And she’s perfect.”

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to the many people who inspired the pages of this book. I’ve changed some names and locations and, to avoid a cast of thousands, I’ve amalgamated some roles, but I hope everybody who played a part in this chapter of my life recognizes him or herself, and how grateful I am. Thanks also to the many dogs and puppies I met, making each day better with a simple wag of their tail.

  On the writing side, I’d like to thank my agent, Jon Elek, who believed in The Puppy Book from when it was little more than a one-line query; Dan Bunyard of Michael Joseph for commissioning it; and Max Leonard: planner, personal editor and prose polisher extraordinaire, who made a seemingly impossibly tight deadline possible.

  Finally, and most important, thanks to Emma, Freddy and Traffy for being such stars and to Ian for agreeing to me telling the story of one very special year . . .

  If you are concerned about the health or welfare of a puppy, contact your local vet, the ASPCA or one of the other national dog charities, who will offer advice.

  For anyone thinking of buying a puppy, please make sure it comes from a good home—one where you’re able to meet the puppy and the rest of the litter and his or her mum, more than once, before taking it home. Too many puppies are born into the cruelty of puppy farms, especially at Christmas, and animal shelters are overflowing with unwanted pets.

  As the old saying goes: “A dog is for life . . .”